THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


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JUVENILE    AND    MISCELLANEOUS 


POEMS, 


WRITTEN     OR     TRANSLATED 


BY    ROSWELL    PARK,    A.  M. 


Aut  prodfsse  volunt,  aut  delectare  Poets  ; 
Aut  simul  et  jucunda  et  idonea  dicere  vitae. 
Quicquid  prsecipies,  esto  brevis :  ut  cito  dicta 
Percipiant  animi  dociles,  teneantque  fideles. 

HOR.  Art.  Poet. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
DES1LVER,  THOMAS  &  CO. 
1836. 


ENTERED,  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1836,  by 
DESILVER,  THOMAS  &  Co. 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court,  for  the  Eastern  District 
of  Pennsylvania. 


f -.  3HEKXAX  AKD  CO..  PRINTERS. 


fa 


TO  THE 

REV.    THOMAS    WARNER, 

CHAPLAIN  AND  PROFESSOR  OF  ETHICS,  ETC. 
UNITED    STATES    MILITARY    ACADEMY,    WEST    POINT,    NEW  YORK, 

THIS   LITTLE   WORK 

18- AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED  BY  HIS  GRATEFUL  FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


1* 


PREFACE. 


POETRY  is  conceived  to  be  the  language  of 
feeling,  addressed  to  the  imagination  and  the 
heart.  Its  proper  objects,  therefore,  are  the  grand 
and  beautiful  in  nature  or  in  morals,  and  the  hu 
man  affections  in  general;  but  especially  those 
which  most  attach  man  to  his  Creator  and  to 
his  fellow-man, — religion,  patriotism,  friendship, 
and  love.  It  is  with  these  ideas  of  Poetry  that 
the  following  lines  have  been  written,  mostly 
as  the  amusement  of  leisure  or  lonely  hours. 
They  are  now  offered  to  the  public,  and  particu 
larly  to  the  writer's  personal  friends,  with  diffi- 


PREFACE. 


dence ;  but  not  without  the  hope  that  they  may 
repay  a  perusal,  and  perhaps  suggest  some  inte 
resting  train  of  reflection.  Whatever  may  be 
their  faults  of  style  or  deficiencies  of  subject,  it  is 
hoped  that  they  contain  nothing  which  can  tarnish 
the  mind,  or  win  it  from  the  ways  of  virtue  and 
happiness.  If  they  do  not  rather  tend  to  warm 
and  mend  the  heart,  and  to  raise  it  above  earth's 
cares  and  sorrows,  they  will  have  failed  of  their 
object.  With  this  brief  explanation  of  the  spirit 
in  which  they  were  written,  and  are  now  pub 
lished,  the  writer  submits  them  to  their  fate. 

Philadelphia,  October  31,  1836. 


CONTENTS, 


Home    .            ,  ,        .  .             .            .            .             13 

Mount  Holyoke     "**'  '     .- "  ' -    .            .            .             .      15 

Constant  Devotion        _.  .            .            .             .             17 

The  Vision  of  Life          ','.."  .            .            .            .19 

The  first  Flower  of  Spring  ,,           ...            22 

The  Creation           .            ,  ...           .            .             .24 

The  Deluge       .            .         _  .            ;'      "    .            .            26 

Lafayette     .            .  •  . '           .-         .' T  ^        .28 

The  Landing  of  the  Pilgrims  .            ,~~         .  't   \f';.»  '         30 

A  Vernal  Evening  .            . :  ""  ..            .            .            .      33 

The  Sagacious  Hibernian     '  .    ;    • .  ;  „         .             .            35 

An  Enigma,            .            .  .            .            .             .40 

Ode  for  the  National  Jubilee  .           ".    -        .             .             41 

The  Dissipated  Collegian  .   *                         .             .44 

The  Progress  of  Liberty        '  ,          -.,                                   50 


Chanson  de  1'Amitie  .  .  '  *;  . 

Academic  Address         .  .  .  ... 

New  Years  Ode      .  .  .          .  . 

The  Requiem    .  .  .  .  . 

To  a  Goldfinch        ...  .  . 

Niagara  Falls    .  .  .  .  .  . 

The  Garland  .  .  .  .  . 

The  Hermit's  Vesper  Hymn     .  .  .  .. 

The  Immoveable  Jaw          .  .  .  . 

The  Sea  and  the  Storm  .  .  . 

To  my  Sister  .  .  .  .  .  . 

The  Evening  Star          ....          ... 

A  Swiss  Tale          ...... 

Morning  .....  ^\  .       94 

Evening       .  .  .  .  .  .  -..         .      96 

The  Conjuror's  Song     .  .  .  .  .  98 

Elegy  .  .  .  ...  .100 

To  the  Moon     ....  102 

Isabelle        ...  .  .107 

Cooperstown  .  .        'V  .        ..•••.      "* 

To  the  Packet  Ship  *  *  *  .,"  ...         .    118 

The  Genius  of  Romance  .  .L»    .    .  .   .       120 

The  Last  Prayer  of  Queen  Mary    .  .  .',          .    124 

A  Brother's  Memento   .  .  .          *•*'*,"•  ^"* 

The  Carrier's  Address  .    127 


CONTENTS.  XI 

The  Acknowledgment  J32 

Invocation   ...            .            .            ...  .    134 

The  Sun  has  set  .  .  .  .  .137 

The  Parting            .            .             .             „            .  .138 

Lotzow's  Wild  Chase    .....  140 

Enigma       .             .            .             .            .            .  .     142 

Consolation      ,.             .....  113 

Bagatelle     .             .             .             .             .             .  ~  .    144 

The  Apology      .             .    .        .             .            .            .  1 47 

The  Marseilles  Hymn         .             .             .            .  .149 

The  Communion            ,\        .            .            .  152 


JUVENILE 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS 


HOME. 

These  lines  were  written  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  during  a  long  absence 
from  home  ;  and  are  preserved  only  as  a  memento  of  the  sentiment 
which  inspired  them — 

"  Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  home."' 

WHEN  far  from  our  friends,  to  the  bosom  of  strangers, 

In  search  of  some  fancied  enjoyment  we  roam, 
Surrounded  by  trials,  encompass'd  with  dangers, 

How  oft  we  look  back  on  our  far  distant  home : 
And  whether  success  or  misfortune  befall  us, 

Our  path  intermingled  with  pleasure  or  pain, 
To  what  scenes  so  ever  life's  pathway  may  call  us, 

We  think  of  our  home  and  our  kindred  again. 

If  Providence  smile,  and  our  toil  be  rewarded, 
Success  crown  our  labors  and  banish  our  fear, 

If  pure  be  our  hearts,  and  fair  virtue  regarded, 
Our  home  and  our  kindred  are  still  counted  dear. 
2 


14  HOME. 

Though  new  friends  engage  us  with  cheering  attention. 

And  time  shade  the  images  drawn  in  the  mind, 
No  subject  is  ever  more  pleasing  to  mention 

Than  home  and  the  kindred  we  left  far  behind. 

When  storms  are  uplifting  the  waves  of  the  ocean, 

Or  when  the  bright  sunbeams  enliven  the  day, 
When  nature  inspires  us  with  warmest  emotion, 

We  still  think  of  kindred  and  friends  far  away. 
When  time  has  fled  by,  and  our  absence  is  finish'd, 

To  scenes  of  enjoyment  we  cheerfully  come, 
And  still  our  affection  remains  undiminish'd, 

For  much  beloved  kindred  and  thrice  welcome  home. 

Springfield,  Mass.,  Sept.  1823. 


MOUNT  HOLYOKE.  15 


MOUNT  HOLYOKE. 

HP, 

Written  in  commemoration  of  a  visit  to  Mount  Holyoke,  with  a  party 
of  young  gentlemen  from  Springfield,  June  23, 1823. 

OH  !  who  can  view  from  Holyoke's  height 

The  varied  scene  below, 
Nor  yield  to  feelings  of  delight, 

And  rapture's  deepest  glow ! 
If  there  be  aught  upon  the  earth 

Of  beautiful  and  fair, 
In  all  the  freshness  of  its  birth 

It  dwells  unrivall'd  there-. 

Grand  is  the  rugged  mountain's  form 

Beneath  the  sunbeam's  glow, 
Whose  rocky  brow  has  faced  the  storm 

While  thunders  roll'd  below ; 
And  bright  the  summer-house  uprears 

Its  pinnacle  on  high, 
Whose  beaming  lamp  at  eve  appears 

The  watch-tow'r  of  the  sky. 

Mount  Tom,  in  endless  verdure  crown'd, 

Adorns  the  lovely  view, 
While  lofty  mountains,  rising  round, 

Grow  dim  in  distant  blue ; 
And  rolling  on,  with  swelling  tide, 

Majestic  to  the  main, 
Connecticut,  thy  waters  glide 

Along  the  extended  plain. 


16  MOUNT  HOLYOKE. 

Fair  meadows,  crown'd  with  vernal  flow'r*, 

The  bushy  banks  adorn, 
Where  morning  suns  and  evening  show'rs 

Mature  the  yellow  corn ; 
And  gaily  spread  beneath  the  eye 

Are  rising  village  spires, 
And  far  and  near  is  curling  high 

The  smoke  of  village  fires. 

Here  Hadley's  long  and  ancient  street 

In  loveliness  is  drest, 
And  there  Northampton's  mansions  greet 

The  gazer  and  the  guest ; 
And  Amherst,  with  its  college  walls, 

In  distance  rnelts  away, 
Where  science  lights  her  lofty  halls 

With  reason's  brightest  ray. 

Then  who  can  view  from  Holyoke's  height 

The  varied  scenes  below, 
Nor  yield  to  feelings  of  delight 

And  rapture's  deepest  glow  ! 
If  there  be  aught  upon  the  earth 

Of  beautiful  and  fair, 
In  all  the  freshness  of  its  birth 

It  dwells  unrivall'd  there. 

Springfield,  Nov.  1823. 


CONSTANT  DEVOTION.  17 


CONSTANT  DEVOTION. 

There  are  moments  when  the  mind,  disenthralled  from  earthly  things, 
anticipates  the  important  future  which  is  to  dawn  beyond  the  grave,  and 
realizes  how  feeble  and  uncertain  is  the  tie  which  binds  it  to  the  mate 
rial  world,  the  sunshine  and  the  storm. 

WHEN  the  sun  in  splendor  shines 

From  the  Eastern  mountain, 
When  the  shepherd's  flock  reclines 

By  the  crystal  fountain  ; 
When  the  sun  has  cross'd  the  sky, 

Sinking  in  the  ocean, 
When  the  silver  moon  rides  high, 
Creating  soft  emotion, — 
Fill  my  spirit,  God  of  Love, 
With  thy  boundless  favor ; 
Turn  my  heart  to  thoughts  above, 
And  be  my  guide  for  ever ! 

When  the  clouds,  extended  wide, 

Hide  the  face  of  heaven ; 
When  the  furious  whirlwinds  ride 

On  the  tempest  driven  ; 
When  the  lightning  flashes  bright, 

Bursting  rocks  asunder, 
When  the  hills,  at  dead  of  night, 
Are  shaken  by  the  thunder ; 

Guard  me,  Lord,  from  danger  near, — 

Nature  quakes  before  thee, — 
Fill  my  heart  with  holy  fear, 
And  let  my  soul  adore  thee. 
2* 


18  CONSTANT  DEVOTION. 

When  I  pass  my  brightest  days, 

Into  age  declining ; 
When  this  wondrous  frame  decays, 

Ev'ry  sense  resigning ; 
When  the  close  of  life  appears, 
Worlds  unknown  before  me ; 
When  I  leave  this  vale  of  tears, 
And  waves  of  death  roll  o'er  me, 
Fill  my  spirit,  God  of  Love, 
With  thy  boundless  favor ; 
May  I  rise  to  realms  above, 
And  dwell  with  thee  for  ever. 

Plainfield,  N.  Y.,  December,  1824. 


4 

THE  VISION  OF  LIFE.  19 


THE  VISION  OF  LIFE. 

"  Thoughtful,  on  the  solemn,  silent  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean  we  must  sail  so  soon." 

DR.  YOUNG. 

-' 
SOFTLY  wrapt  in  bliss  elysian, 

On  a  downy  bed  of  rest, 
An  instructive,  wondrous  vision 

Swiftly  pass'd  across  my  breast, 
As  the  mazy  path  of  mortals 

Was  before  my  fancy  spread, 
From  its  dim,  mysterious  portals 

To  the  mansions  of  the  dead  ; 

I  observed  the  infant  clinging 

To  its  joyful  mother's  arms, 
And  with  every  moment  springing 

Into  youth's  attractive  charms, 
Till  the  smiling  youth  ascending, 

Strove  the  rugged  mount  to  climb, 
Where  the  rays  of  hope  were  blending 

With  the  light  of  truth  sublime. 

Manhood  next,  with  endless  passions, 

In  the  path  before  me  came, 
Ruled  by  habits,  led  by  fashions, 

Seeking  pleasure,  wealth,  or  fame ; 
And  he  toil'd  or  sported  nigh  me, 

Pleased  with  bubbles  light  as  air, 
Till  at  length  he  totter'd  by  me 

With  his  staff  and  silver  hair. 


20  THE  VISION  OF  LIFE. 

There  was  careless,  headstrong  folly 

Making  laughter  for  the  gay, 
There  was  lonely  melancholy 

Sadly  pining  life  away  ; 
There  were  pride  and  fortune's  minions 

Ever  seeking  rank  and  pow'r ; 
There  was  love,  with  golden  pinions, 

Lull'd  in  beauty's  rosy  bow'r. 

Genius  there,  with  art  and  science, 

Strove  the  rugged  path  to  cheer ; 
Cautious  reason  bade  defiance 

To  the  wiles  of  hope  and  fear ; 
Cheerful  wisdom  was  inspecting 

Numerous  objects  on  the  road, 
And  religion  was  directing 

To  a  happier  abode. 

Still  was  time  by  far  the  fleetest 

Of  the  mystic  ones  in  view, 
And  his  presence  was  the  sweetest 

As  he  bade  a  last  adieu  ; 
For  the  king  of  terrors  nigh  them 

Ever  stood,  their  watchful  foe, 
And  as  soon  as  time  past  by  them 

He  destroy'd  them  at  a  blow. 

I  beheld  him  strike  the  youngest  one, 
And  life  with  him  was  o'er ; 

I  beheld  him  strike  the  strongest  one, 
The  strong  appear'd  no  more ; 

I  beheld  him  strike  the  boldest  one, 
Who  fell  beneath  his  dart ; 


THE  VISION  OF  LIFE.  21 

I  beheld  him  strike  the  oldest  one, 
And  pierce  his  wither'd  heart. 

But  the  funeral  procession 

My  impressive  vision  broke, 
As,  aroused  by  its  progression, 

From  my  slumber  I  awoke  : 
There  were  relatives  condoling 

For  the  beauteous  and  the  brave, 
And  the  solemn  bell  was  tolling, 

As  the  lost  one  press'd  the  grave. 

Plainfield,  March,  1825. 


22  THE  FIRST  FLOWER  OF  SPRING. 


THE  FIRST  FLOWER  OF  SPRING. 

A«  the  Irish  Bard  has  so  beautifully  sung  "  The  Last  Rose  of  Sum 
mer,"  perhaps  the  subject  of  the  following  lines,  suggested  by  it,  will  be 
excusable,  however  simple  and  unassuming. 

How  sweet  was  the  flowret 

First  blooming  in  spring, 
When  zephyrs  breathed  o'er  it 

With  warm,  balmy  wing, 
When  the  humming-bird  hasted 

Its  sweetness  to  share, 
And  the  butterfly  tasted 

Its  odorous  air. 

Its  leaves  were  extended, 

Bright  hues  to  disclose, 
Where  sweetly  were  blended 

The  lily  and  rose  ; 
While  young  buds  around  it 

Their  fragrancy  shed, 
And  verdant  leaves  crown'd  it, 

Adorning  its  bed. 

But  ah !  sadly  changed  was 

That  flowret  to  view, 
As  lately  I  ranged 

In  the  grove  where  it  grew ; 
The  cold  wind  was  beating 

Its  withering  form, 
The  dark  clouds  were  meeting, 

And  boded  a  storm. 


THE  FIRST  FLOWER  OF  SPRING.  23 

The  humming-bird  left  it 

When  drooping  its  head, 
The  bee  had  bereft  it 

Of  sweetness,  and  fled  ; 
The  sunbeams  were  shaded 

Which  first  gave  it  birth, 
Its  bright  leaves  had  faded, 

And  sunk  to  the  earth. 

Thus  life's  early  promise, 

The  first  buds  of  bloom, 
Perchance  are  torn  from  us 

And  wrapp'd  in  the  tomb ; 
Thus  transient  their  semblance, 

Thus  swift  their  decay ; 
And  sweet  their  remembrance, 

When  passing  away ! 


Burlington,  April,  1825. 


24  THE  CREATION. 


THE  CREATION. 

It  will  be  readily  perceived  that  these  stanzas  were  an  academic  exer 
cise,  not  intended  to  broach  any  particular  philosophical  theory.  It  seems 
to  be  now  generally  conceded,  that  the  six  days  of  the  creation  were  so 
many  geological  periods,  indicating  the  successive  stages  through  which 
our  planet  has  passed  ;  but  not  the  less  wonderful  and  mysterious  is  the 
mighty  agency  by  which  these  changes  were  produced. 

WHEN  silence  o'er  the  universe 

Her  realm  extended  far, 
Before  the  raging  elements 

Maintain'd  destructive  war ; 
When  chaos  through  unbounded  space 

Grave  universal  sleep, 
While  yet  the  earth  was  void  of  form, 

"  And  darkness  veil'd  the  deep ;" 

Jehovah  thunder'd  from  his  throne 

And  silence  own'd  his  sway ; 
Dread  chaos  then  dissolved  its  charm 

And  darkness  fled  away. 
"  Let  there  be  light,"  the  Almighty  said, — 

Light  instantly  appear'd : 
The  lofty  pillars  of  the  sky 

In  majesty  were  rear'd. 

The  new-created  sun  arose 

To  gild  the  vault  of  heaven, 
And  all  the  glorious  orbs  of  night 

Were  through  the  ether  driven. 


THE  CREATION.  25 

The  waters  parted  from  the  earth, 

The  land  appear'd  in  view, 
And  mountains  swell'd,  and  rivers  flow'd, 

And  fruits  luxuriant  grew. 

Then  teem'd  the  earth  with  living  forms, 

The  terrible  and  fair ; 
And  fishes  cleft  the  crystal  sea, 

And  songsters  wing'd  the  air. 
And  countless  beings,  bright  and  good, 

The  universe  contained ; 
Yet  'mid  the  brute  and  angel  race 

A  chasm  still  remained. 

Then  man  was  form'd  by  skill  divine, 

,  At  God's  creating  word, 
The  ruler  of  the  peopled  earth, 

The  image  of  his  Lord ; 
And  blissful  choirs  of  angels  sung 

Their  hymns  before  the  throne, 
As  woman  smiled,  and  God  proclaim'd 

Creation's  labor  done. 

Oxford,  N.  Y.  June,  1825. 


26  THE  DELUGE. 


THE  DELUGE. 

Thai  a  Universal  Deluge  once  existed,  is  proved  by  the  concurrent  tra 
dition  of  all  the  ancient  nations,  as  well  as  by  the  most  indisputable 
evidences  of  geology.  This  fact,  therefore,  so  prominent  in  Scripture 
history,  is  unimpeachable  ;  and  even  the  pre-existence  of  the  human  rare 
is  maintained  by  the  same  traditions. 

WHEN  virtue,  peace  and  righteousness 

From  Adam's  race  had  fled, 
When  folly,  vice  and  wickedness 

Had  fill'd  the  world  with  dread  ; 
The  hour  of  vengeance  had  arrived, 

Jehovah's  anger  rose, 
And  justice  call'd  the  mighty  flood 

To  overwhelm  his  foes. 

Then  Noah  form'd  the  sacred  ark, 

Ordain'd  by  Heaven  to  save 
A  remnant  of  all  living  forms 

From  nature's  watery  grave. 
The  bird  of  air,  the  beast  of  earth, 

Its  spacious  rooms  contain ; 
While  all  the  sons  of  vice  and  guilt 

In  thoughtless  mirth  remain. 

Then  rushed  the  torrents  of  the  sky, 

And  o'er  the  mountains  spread : 
The  waters  of  the  raging  deep 

Then  rose  above  its  bed  ; 
And  shrieks  of  wo — and  sights  of  fear 

Were  mingled  with  the  storm, 
While  o'er  them  rush'd  the  foaming  wave 

In  death's  terrific  form. 


THE  DELUGE.  27 


The  ark  upon  the  water  rides, 

And  every  tempest  braves, 
Nor  heeds  the  driving  of  the  winds, 

Or  rolling  of  the  waves, 
Till  on  the  mountain's  top  it  stands, 

Secure  from  ev'ry  harm, 
Protected  in  its  devious  path 

By  God's  almighty  arm. 

His  sacred  word  Jehovah  gives 

To  drown  the  earth  no  more, 
While  ages  roll  or  time  remains, 

Till  time  itself  be  o'er. 
Upon  the  cloud  he  sets  his  bow, 

A  token  of  his  grace, 
And  still  his  boundless  favors  flow 

To  all  the  human  race. 

Oxford,  June,  1825. 


39  LAFAYETTE. 


LAFAYETTE. 

"  I  saw  the  Marshals  of  Napoleon,  gorg.-d  with  the  plunder  of  Europe 
and  stained  with  its  blood,  borne  on  tlu;ir  flashing  chariot  wheels  through 
the  streets  of  Paris.  I  saw  the  ministers  of  Napoleon  filling  the  highest 
posts  of  trust  and  honor  under  Louis  XVIII.;  and  I  saw  the  friend  of 
Washington,  glorious  in  his  noble  poverty,  looking  down  from  the  daz 
zling  height  of  his  consistency  and  his  principles,  on  their  paltry  anibi 
tion  and  its  more  paltry  rewards." 

EVERETT'S  EULOOY  ON  LAFAYETTE. 

HAIL  to  the  chief  who  in  war's  deadly  slaughter 

Join'd  in  the  struggle,  our  country  to  save ; 
Hail  to  the  hero  that  o'er  the  wide  water 
Comes  to  revisit  the  land  of  the  brave  ! 

Hail  to  our  nation's  guest! 

Joy  to  his  noble  breast ! 
Wide  be  his  fame,  till  the  last  sun  is  set. 

Hail !  freedom's  champion, 

Brother  of  Washington, 
Welcome,  thrice  welcome,  the  brave  Lafayette ! 

Lone  from  the  host  of  those  warrior's  and  sages 

Who  guided  the  tempest  of  war's  dread  alarm, 
He  has  survived  the  departure  of  ages, 

Firm  as  the  oak  which  has  weather'd  the  storm. 
Planets  have  glided  by 
Fame's  glitt'ring  canopy — 
Never  shall  freemen  their  glory  forget ; — 
Still,  while  they  shine  afar, 
Hail  to  the  evening  star, 
Welcome,  thrice  welcome,  the  brave  Lafayette ! 


LAFAYETTE.  29 

Bright  be  the  days  of  our  gallant  defender, 

Long  may  the  green  laurel  twine  round  his  brow, 
Ever  surrounded  with  verdure  and  splendor, 
Pure  as  the  radiance  of  heav'n's  evening  bow. 
When  his  immortal  mind 
Leaves  the  dull  earth  behind, 
Filling  a  nation  with  tears  of  regret, 
Then  ardent  fancy's  eye 
Sees,  hi  the  starry  sky, 
Washington's  spirit  rejoin  Lafayette. 

Oxford,  Sept.  1825. 


3* 


30  THE  LAMM.VG  OF  THK  Pi.'.CiRIMS. 


THE  LANDING  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

It  may  be  necessary,  in  avoidance  of  the  imputation  of  plagiarism,  t" 
state  that  these  lines  were  composed,  and  published  in  a  Boston  paper, 
by  a  friend  to  whom  they  were  sent,  before  the  writer  had  seen  Mrs.  He 
maus'  spirited  poem,  "  The  Pilgrim  Fathers,"  or  was  aware  of  its 
existence. 

THE  breeze  is  high  on  the  lonely  shores 

Of  Massachusetts  Bay ; 
The  storm-swept  ocean  loudly  roars, 

And  foams  with  dashing  spray. 

The  coast  is  clad  with  drifted  snow, 

The  forest  stripp'd  of  bloom, 
And  sky  above  and  earth  below 

Are  wrapp'd  in  winter's  gloom. 

The  panther  springs  from  his  secret  lair, 

The  wolves  at  midnight  howl ; 
And  the  frightened  deer  swiftly  cuts  the  air, 

As  she  flies  at  their  horrid  growl. 

Away  from  the  shore  is  a  cabin  of  bark, 

Where  the  Indian  hunter  dwells ; 
But  a  shout  comes  over  the  breezes ;  hark ! 

'Tis  the  Indian  warrior's  yells ! 

Those  hostile  tribes,  in  their  deadly  hate, 

Have  drenched  the  earth  with  blood, 
And  the  valley  now  is  desolate 

Where  once  the  wigwam  stood. 


THE  LANDING  OF  THE  PILGRIMS.  O* 

The  wind  is  high  on  the  lonely  shores 

Of  the  Massachusetts  Bay, 
The  skies  are  dark  and  the  ocean  roars 

Mid  foaming  heaps  of  spray. 

But  whence  is  that  vessel  now  booming  in  sight, 

On  the  distant  Eastern  waves  ] 
Have  her  crew  come  hither  to  join  in  the  fight, 

And  to  find  their  lonely  graves  1 

Or  seek  they  for  fame,  or  dominion,  or  gold, 

In  ambition's  mad  career  ? 
Say  whence  are  those  strangers,  so  venturous  and  bold, 

And  what  is  their  object  here  1 

That  vessel  is  come  from'  a  stormy  land, 

By  persecution  driven  ; 
And  her  crew  are  a  holy,  pilgrim  band, 

In  the  special  care  of  heaven. 

They  came  not  to  join  in  the  savage  fight, 

Nor  hither  for  fame  did  they  flee  ; 
But  they  came  to  enjoy  the  sacred  right 

Of  religious  liberty. 

They  came  to  seek  for  an  humble  abode, 

And  erect  a  peaceful  home, 
Where  a  martyr's  blood  had  never  flow'd, 

Nor  persecution  come. 

3&  * 
They  came  for  a  refuge  from  vice  and  crime; 

They  came  to  escape  from  death^ 
As  the  ark  was  preserved,  in  the  olden  time, 
From  the  drowning  world  beneath. 


32  THE  LANDING  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 

And  now  their  boat,  by  the  tempest  toss'd, 

Approached  the  dreary  strand, 
Till  the  storm-beaten  rock  of  Plymouth's  coast 

Received  them  safe  on  land. 

The  sun  is  rising  on  the  shores 

Of  the  Massachusetts  Bay, 
And  o'er  the  verdant  landscape  pours 

The  radiant  beams  of  day. 

But  throughout  its  course  from  east  to  west, 

O'er  all  the  nations  borne, 
It  shines  on  no  country  more  happy  and  blest 

Than  here  salutes  the  morn. 

And  long  in  ten  thousand  hearts  of  bliss 
Will  the  blood  of  ihe  pilgrims  flow, 

Who  fled  to  this  dreary  wilderness 
Two  hundred  years  ago. 

Oxford,  Oct.  1825. 


*  V 


• 

A  VERNAL  EVENING.  3H 


A  VERNAL  EVENING. 

•'  How  sweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank  ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears ; — soft  stillness,  and  the  night, 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony," 

MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 

THE  wintry  storms  have  past, 

Which  swept  along  the  skies, 
No  longer  howls  the  blast, 
But  gentle  zephyrs  rise  ; 
And  nature  smiles,  in  beauty  drest, 
And  pleasure  reigns  in  ev'ry  breast. 

The  noon-day's  heat  is  gone, 

And  twilight  veils  the  bow'rs ; 
The  evening  shade  comes  on, 

And  dew-drops  gem  the  flow'rs; 
Like  crystal  tears  from  pity's  eye, 
Or  glitt'ring  stars  which  deck  the  sky. 

Hark !  hear  the  serenade 

Which  steals  along  the  plains ; 
Now,  soft  its  accents  fade, 

Then  flow  in  bolder  strains, 
Like  those  of  angels'  harps  sublime, 
Resounding  through  the  starry  clime. 

The  shining  queen  of  night 

Rides  on  the  vernal  sky, 
And  sheds  her  silver  light 

From  azure  realms  on  high  ; 


34  A  VERNAL  EVENING. 

Till  Sol  ascends  in  golden  car, 
And  shines  majestic  from  afar. 

Thus  may  our  moments  glide, 

In  calmness,  love,  and  peace, 
And  wisdom  be  our  guide 

Till  life's  brief  night  shall  cease  : 
Then  may  our  spirits  wing  their  way 
To  brighter  realms  of  endless  day. 

Oxford,  April,  1826. 


THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN.  35 


THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN. 

The  tale  on  which  this  scrap  is  founded,  was  repeated  to  the  writer 
by  an  aged  relative,  and  without  aiming  at  satire,  embodies  a  lesson  of 
human  nature  which  is  deemed  worth  preserving. 

As  Yankee  legends  tell,  in  days  of  yore, 

Ere  liberty  had  bless'd  our  happy  states, 
An  Irishman,  who  long  had  been  quite  weary 
Of  cold  potatoes  and  bog  meadows  dreary, 

Impell'd,  no  doubt,  by  hope  of  kinder  fetes, 
His  native  country  left  for  wild  New  England's  shore. 

Upon  the  coast  where  Patrick  came 
An  ancient  maiden  happen'd  to  reside, 

Who  might  be  call'd  a  very  worthy  dame, 
And  own'd  some  lands  near  Narragansett's  tide. 
For  her  our  Pat  conceived  a  predilection, 

(Or  for  her  lands,) 
And  as  she  had  no  serioils  objection, 

To  wedlock's  bands, 
A  parson  therefore  came,  by  Pat's  direction, 

And  join'd  their  hands. 
Then  to  the  church  next  sabbath  fair 
This  happy  couple  did  repair 
To  see  the  folks,  make  complimentary  speeches, 
"  And  hear,"  said  Pat,  "  how  well  the  parson  preaches." 
The  parson  chose  the  following  text, — 
"  He  that  hath  pity  on  the  poor 

Doth  lend  his  substance  to  the  Lord, 
And  from  his  never-failing  store 


. 

36  THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN. 

In  this  world  shall  have  rich  reward, 
And  endless  glory  in  the  next"* 
The  preacher  then,  with  eloquence,  confess'd 

That  ministers  were  those  the  text  referr'd  to, 
(Meaning  of  course  himself  among  the  rest,) 

For  they  were  always  poor ;  and  he  averr'd  too, 
That  they  who  gave  to  him  should  ne'er  be  sorry, 
For  God  would  grant  them  riches  here,  and  endless  glory. 
Pat  was  well  pleased  to  think  that  he  could  gain 

Rewards  on  earth,  as  well  as  future  life, 
And  thus  returning  home,  in  merry  strain. 
Address'd  his  wife : 
"  My  dearest  spouse, 

We  very  soon 
Shall  have  a  clever  mess  of  cows 

Instead  of  one : 

For  the  parson,  you  know,  is  a  very  good  man, 
And  he  put  me  in  mind  of  an  excellent  plan : 
I  will  drive  him  my  cow,  dear,  and  then,  do  you  see, 
A  whole  drove  of  cows  will  the  Lord  give  to  me." 
His  wife  replied,  with  heartfelt  sorrow, 
That  then  their  milk  they'd  have  to  borrow ; 
And  this  would  really  be  doleful, 
Since  night  and  morn  he  ate  a  bowl  full : 
Besides,  she  said,  that  unless  they  grew  richer, 
They  hardly  could  afford  to  buy  a  pitcher. 
But  Pat  consoled  his  charming  bride, 
And,  full  of  confidence,  replied — 
That  they  should  soon  have  milk  in  plenty, 
When,  'stead  of  one  cow,  they  had  twenty. 
He  drove  his  cow  and  gave  her  to  the  priest, 

*  Proverbs,  iix.  17. 


THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN.  37 

Who  gratefully  his  thanks  express'd, 
Then  turned  her  in  a  field  of  blooming  clover, 
Which  all  his  cattle  then  were  grazing  over. 
Patrick  returned,  with  bosom  light 
And  hopes  raised  high; 
Although  his  wife  heaved  many  a  sigh  ; 
But  round  his  house,  the  following  night, 
A  noise  was  heard. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Pat,  "  you  now  will  trust  my  word ; 
I  told  you  that  our  cow  would  shortly  come," 

Then  rose  and  found  her. 
It  seems,  uneasy  when  confined  from  home, 
She  jumped  the  fence,  at  liberty  to  roam, 

And  several  oxen  following,  stood  around  her. 
"  I  thank  the  Lord,"  said  Pat ; 

"  And,  though  they're  oxen,  I  will  not  refuse  them ; 
But  see,  my  dear,  they  are  so  very  fat, 

I  cannot  use  them." 
His  wife  exclaims,  "  Pray,  how  then  will  you  work  it !" 

"I'll  tell  you,  honey; 

I'll  drive  them  down  to  Providence  to  market, 
And  get  the  money." 

So  merrily,  without  delay, 
Along  the  road  he  sped  his  way. 
The  priest  next  morning  oped  his  eyes 

At  early  dawn, 
And  shortly  found,  with  much  surprise, 

His  oxen  gone. 

He  traced  their  steps  along  the  road, 
And  found  the  cow  at  Pat's  abode.. 
When  Pat  return'd,  our  minister, 

With  visage  long, 

(And  feelings  doubtless  somewhat  sinister,) 
4 


THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN. 

Told  him,  'twas  wrong 
To  drive  his  oxen  off  without  permission  ; 

And  that  unless  he  rendered  satisfaction, 
Hi*  soul  would  be  in  danger  of  perdition, 

For  such  an  action. 
But  Pat,  with  confidence  and  reverence  due, 

These  words  retorted : 

"  Sir,  you  asserted 
That  they  who  gave  to  priests  would  be  rewarded, 

And  go  to  heaven. 

Your  sermon,  sir,  was  doubtless  very  true ; 
And  now,  sir,  if  your  text  has  been  regarded, 

And  these  fine  oxen  God  to  me  has  given, 
What's  that  to  you  ?" 
The  priest  denied  that  this  was  what  he  meant, 

The  last  Lord's  day ; 
Declaring  that  the  oxen  were  not  sent, 

But  ran  away. 

"  To  come  to  case  in  hand,  Pat,  you  must  settle, 
And  pay  me  well  for  driving  off  my  cattle. 
But,  seeing  lawsuits  are  a  great  vexation, 
We'll  settle  it  by  friendly  arbitration. 
So,  Patrick,  you  may  choose  the  men 

To  hear  the  question  and  decide  it ; 
Whate'er  be  their  decision  then, 

You  must  abide  it" 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Pat,  "  and  since  'tis  fair, 
That  honest  men  should  judge  a  case  so  rare  ; 
And  since  you  do  not  wish  to  make  a  bustle,  sir, 

About  the  place, 
I  think  that  I  will  choose  the  twelve  apostles,  sir, 

To  judge  the  case." 
•  "  The  twelve  apostles ! — Patrick ! — they 


THE  SAGACIOUS  HIBERNIAN.  39 

Can  never  hear  us  till  the  judgment  day !" 

"  Why  that,"  says  Pat, 
"  Is  just  the  very  time  and  place  I  pitch'd  upon. 

They'll  then  determine 
Exactly  what  you  meant  and  what  you  preach'd  upon 

In  your  last  sermon.' 

Oxford,  May,  1826. 


40  AN  ENIGMA. 


AN  ENIGMA. 

"They  bid  me  seek  in  other  scenes 
The  charms  that  others  see." 

THERE'S  a  word  of  five  letters,  oft  used  to  express 

The  pleasure  which  mortals  combine 
In  a  flatterer's  tongue,  in  a  woman's  caress, 
In  a  wager  at  cards,  in  a  hazard  at  chess, 
Or  a  glass  overflowing  with  wine. 

Omit  its  initial,  it  then  is  allied 

To  injustice,  oppression,  and  care ; 
Drop  one  letter  more,  and  it  hangs  by  your  side, 
As  true  as  a  servant,  as  dear  as  a  bride ; 

Wheresoever  you  go,  it  is  there. 

Transpose  its  three  last  and  it  glitters  above, 

Or  quietly  grazes  the  heath ; 
Transpose  it  throughout,  it  enlivens  the  grove, 
Or  in  battle's  warm  strife  it  commands  you  to  move 

'Mid  carnage,  destruction,  and  death. 

Take  three  of  its  letters,  and  such  is  its  feme, 

A  Turk  will  eschew  it  as  evil ; 
Transpose  its  first  four  and  it  then  will  proclaim 
The  high  vault  of  heav'n,  and  a  part  of  the  name 

Which  Milton  bestow'd  on  the  Devil. 

Oxford,  May  1826., 


ODE  FOR  THE  NATIONAL  JUBILEE,  41 


ODE  FOR  THE  NATIONAL  JUBILEE. 

"  Then  shall  thou  cause  the  trumpet  of  the  jubilee  to  sound.  .  .  and 
ye  shall  hallow  the  fiftieth  year,  and  proclaim  liberty  throughout  all  the 
land,  unto  all  the  inhabitants  thereof:  it  shall  be  a  jubilee  unto  you." 

LEVITICUS  xxv.  9,  10. 

HAIL  to  the  morn,  when  a  nation  arising, 

Sprung  to  existence,  unaided,  alone ; 
When  Liberty's  champions,  thraldom  despising, 

Burst  from  the  bonds  which  around  them  were  thrown ! 
Swift  let  the  cannon's  roar 
Spread  to  our  farthest  shore, 
Loud  sound  the  trump  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ! 
High  o'er  oppression's  grave, 
Proud  let  our  banners  wave, 
Welcome  this  jubilee  day  of  our  birth  ! 

Sad  was  the  time  when  our  sky  was  o'erclouded ; 

Liberty,  weeping,  her  wrongs  did  deplore ; 
When  tyrants  prevail'd  and  our  country  was  crowded 
With  lawless  invaders  polluting  our  shore. 

Then  first  our  sires  arose, 

Firmly  attacked  their  foes, 
Freedom  or  death  did  our  sages  declare, 

Fleet  was  the  warrior's  dart, 

Brave  was  the  hero's  heart, 
Valiant  the  hosts  which  advanced  to  the  war. 

Dark  was  the  hour  when,  our  forces  surrounding, 
Britain's  proud  foeman  exultingly  came, 

4* 


42  ODE  FOR  THE  NATIONAL  JUBILEE. 

When  the  fierce  savage,  the  war-whoop  resounding, 
Mothers  and  orphans  consigned  to  the  flame. 

Swift  burst  the  battle's  storm, 

Wide  spread  the  dire  alarm, 
Far  did  the  echo  extend  o'er  the  plain : 

Loud  was  the  dying  groan, 

Sad  rose  the  widow's  moan, 
Crimson  with  gore  was  the  field  of  the  slain. 

"  Charge  for  our  country  and  nobly  defend  her  !" 

Rung  through  our  forces  by  land  and  by  sea, — 
Soon  was  the  foeman  compell'd  to  surrender, 
And  warrior's  and  sages  were  rescued  and  free. 

Praised  be  the  bravery 

That  saved  us  from  slavery, 
Fame  to  our  chiefs  till  the  last  sun  is  set ! 

Stark,  Putnam,  Gates  and  Greene, 

Wayne,  Sumpter,  Sullivan, 
Warren,  Montgomery  and  brave  Lafayette  ! 

Wide  as  the  world  be  our  WASHINGTON'S  glory, 

Fadeless  his  wisdom  and  virtue  will  shine  ; 
When  princes  and  thrones  shall  remain  but  in  story, 
The  patriot's  heart  shall  be  WASHINGTON'S  shrine. 

First  on  the  field  of  blood, 

Firm  as  a  rock  he  stood, 
Leading  his  host  like  the  pillar  of  flame ; 

Pure  was  his  noble  breast, 

Peace  was  its  constant  guest 
Bright  and  immortal  be  WASHINGTON'S  name. 

"  Praise  to  Jehovah !"  his  mandate  is  spoken ; 
Liberty's  banners  his  pow'r  has  unfurl'd  ! 


ODE  FOR  THE  NATIONAL  JUBILEE.  43 

"  He  the  strong  fetters  of  slavery  has  broken," 
And  freedom  and  science  illumine  the  world. 

Humbly  before  him  fall, 

Own  him  the  Lord  of  all, 
He  o'er  the  universe  ruleth  alone ; 

Loud  let  your  voices  raise 

Anthems  of  joyful  praise  ; 
Glory  to  God,  who  our  foes  hath  o'erthrown ! 

Hamilton,  N.  Y.  July  4,  1826. 


44  THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN. 


THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN. 

"  Our  fellow-men,  how  shockingly  they  treat  us ! 

All  are  tormentors,  every  mother's  son  : 
When  boys  at  school,  our  masters  pinch  and  beat  us. 

And  thus  it  is,  until  life's  race  is  run. 
The  preachers  scold  us,  and  the  lawyers  cheat  us; 

The  doctors  pull  our  teeth  out  one  by  one. 
Till  we,  at  last  worn  out,  from  life  withdraw; 
Our  heirs  then  bury  us,  and  go  to  law." 

COUSIN  LUCY. 

'Tis  said  there  was  a  certain  wight, 

Whose  mother-wit  was  very  bright, 

An  errant  rogue,  and  even  bolder 

Than  many  rogues  a  great  deal  older  ; 

An  aged  father's  only  child, 

Who  laugh'd  at  all  his  actions  wild, 

And  wish'd  to  have  him  famed  for  knowledge, 

And  therefore  brought  him  up  for  college. 

This  wight  of  ours  disdain'd  to  study, 

And  hated  books  in  soul  and  body ; 

His  lessons,  therefore,  were  neglected, 

Though  he  as  often  was  corrected ; 

But  when  there  was  a  chance  to  play, 

Our  rogue  would  slily  run  away. 

Yet,  had  he  given  due  attention, 

(So  powerful  was  his  comprehension,) 

He  might  have  been  the  first  of  all 

In  science,  as  in  playing  ball ; 

He  might  have  done  as  great  exploits 

In  study,  as  in  pitching  quoits ; 

But  not  an  idler  boy  than  he 

Was  found  in  the  academy. 


THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN.  ,  45 

His  anxious  father  oft  advised  him, 
And  his  preceptor  oft  chastised  him, 
Yet  would  he  seize  each  opportunity 
To  cut  his  capers  with  impunity. 
At  length  the  appointed  time  drew  near 
When  he  at  college  was  t'  appear. 
With  very  little  preparation, 
He  underwent  examination ; 
And  though  it  seem'd  that  more  than  once 
They  might  have  set  him  down  a  dunce, 
Yet,  hoping  that  his  tricks  might  quit  him, 
The  Faculty  thought  best  to  admit  him. 
But  even  there  his  books  were  slighted, 
And  he  in  mischief  still  delighted. 
'Twould  waste  more  time  than  I  can  spare 
To  tell  of  half  his  frolics  there, 
But,  since  'tis  fit  to  give  a  sample, 
I  mention  this  for  an  example. 

One  summer  evening,  when  the  moon 
Among  the  clouds  in  splendor  shone, 
A  gentleman,  more  kind  than  prudent, 
Had  call'd  to  see  a  certain  student, 
And  tied  his  horse  beneath  a  shade, 
Until  his  visit  should  be  made. 
At  length,  returning  to  the  spot, 
He  sought  his  horse,  but  found  him  not ; 
His  milk-white  steed,  through  some  disaster, 
Had  gone  away,  and  left  his  master. 
He  met  a  man  upon  the  green, 
And  ask'd  if  he  the  horse  had  seen. 
"  I  saw,"  said  he,  "  some  time  ago, 
About  a  half  a  mile  below, 
A  gentleman  ride  by  with  speed, 
Upon  a  handsome  milk-white  steed. 


46  THE  DISSIPATED  COI4-EGIAN. 

A  dozen  men  now  volunteer'd, 

A  dozen  horses  were  prepared, 

And  soon  they  gallop'd  out  of  sight, 

To  catch  the  thief  and  stop  his  flight 

At  length  they  saw  the  milk-white  horse, 

Which  still  went  on  with  rapid  course ; 

And  clouds  obscured  the  moon  and  sky, 

And  still  the  trampling  sounded  nigh, 

Until  the  thief  had  turn'd  aside, 

Within  the  gloomy  woods  to  hide. 

They  darted  on,  they  gather'd  round  him, 

And  in  the  forest  shortly  found  him. 

"  You  rascal,"  said  the  first,  advancing, 

"  Is  this  your  horse  that  you  were  prancing? 

Come  back  !  the  jail  shall  be  your  home 

Till  the  state's  prison  is  your  doom ; 

The  judge  will  soon  pronounce  your  sentence, 

And  leave  you  leisure  for  repentance." 

The  thief,  confounded,  never  stirr'd, 

Nor  deign'd  to  answer  them  a  word. 

Now  suddenly  the  moon  shone  bright, 

And  placed  the  rogue  in  open  light ; 

But  such  a  thief  as  this,  I  ween, 

No  mortal  since  has  ever  seen. 

For,  with  astonishment,  they  saw 

A  handsome  scarecrow  made  of  straw, 

All  dress'd  in  black,  and  set  astraddle, 

And  firmly  fasten'd  to  the  saddle. 

It  seems  this  roguish  wight  of  ours 

Had  thus  exerted  all  his  pow'rs, 

Had  placed  the  scarecrow  on  the  steed, 

And  sent  him  off  with  wondrous  speed, 

To  crack  a  joke  and  gain  renown, 

And  raise  the  laughter  of  the  town. 


THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN.  47 

But  time  on  rapid  pinions  glides, 
Nor  waits  for  scholars,  winds  or  tides. 
And  now  the  fourth  commencement  came, 
Since  he  at  college  roll'd  his  name, 
When  each  received  the  "  gradum  aureum, 
Omnium  artium  Baccalaureum." 
Our  wight,  of  course,  took  his  degree, 
As  Mr.  Peter  Rogue,  A.  B. 
And  now  inspired  with  wild  ambition, 
Our  college  wit  turn'd  politician ; 
Was  entertain'd  with  welcome  hearty, 
And  join'd,  of  course,  the  strongest  party. 
He  oft  engaged  in  warm  debate 
To  recommend  his  candidate ; 
Declaim'd,  in  many  a  florid  speech, 
On  topics  far  beyond  his  reach ; 
Or  held  his  neighbour  by  the  coat, 
To  plead  his  cause  or  gain  his  vote. 
The  election  came,  his  side  succeeded ; 
His  service  was  no  longer  needed. 
No  loaves  or  fishes  could  he  gain, 
And  all  his  labours  were  in  vain. 
But  still  he  tried  his  best  endeavors, 
To  merit  fortunes'  golden  favors. 
The  Lotteries  now  engaged  his  dreams ; 
He  purchased  tickets  in  the  schemes, 
And  tried  the  various  combinations, 
Arranged  from  modern  calculations : 
But  notwithstanding  all  his  pranks, 
His  tickets  only  brought  him  blanks. 
At  last,  in  hopes  to  mend  his  fortune, 
He  thought  he'd  try  his  luck  in  courting. 
He  tied  his  new  cravat  with  care, 
Perfumed  his  dress  and  combed  his  hair ; 


48  THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN. 

He  learned  to  walk  with  due  uprightness, 
To  dance  a  figure  with  politeness ; 
To  enter  drawing-rooms  with  grace, 
To  screw  the  dimples  on  his  face ; 
To  make  his  bow,  and  then  sit  down, 
As  neat  as  any  beau  in  town. 
Accomplished  thus,  he  tried  his  arts, 
To  captivate  the  ladies'  hearts. 
But  though  he  sought  the  bloom  of  health, 
His  chief  inquiry  was  for  wealth : 
On  this  he  open'd  all  his  battery, 
With  stores  of  wit  and  stores  of  flattery. 
But  every  lady  he  selected 
-   Refused  his  hand,  his  love  rejected, 
And  he  was  doomy  to  pass  his  life, 
Without  the  blessing  of  a  wife. 

Then  driven  on  by  desperation, 
At  length  he  plunged  in  dissipation ; 
With  wine  and  gaming  spent  his  hours, 
Degrading,  wasting  all  his  pow'rs, 
Till  cash  was  spent  and  health  was  gone, 
And  even  death  seem'd  hastening  on. 
Hope  had  departed,  joy  had  fled, 
And  sorrow  hover'd  o'er  his  bed ; 
When  sleep  and  care  his  eyes  oppress'd, 
And  youthful  visions  warmed  his  breast 
He  thought  the  sun  was  beaming  o'er  him, 
He  saw  his  early  home  before  him : 
The  well  known  pine,  beneath  whose  shade 
He  oft  had  in  his  childhood  play'd ; 
The  gentle  stream  which  glided  by, 
And  all  the  landscapes  caught  his  eye. 
He  saw  his  father  bent  with  years, 
His  furrow'd  cheek  suffused  with  tears, 


f  •••-'. 

THE  DISSIPATED  COLLEGIAN.  49 

Lamenting  oft,  in  accents  wild, 
His  prodigal  but  darling  child  ; 
And  oft  his  weeping  mother  mourn'd, 
"  Oh  why  has  not  my  son  return'd  !" 
The  dream  was  o'er,  the  morn  had  come, 
And  soon  the  wand'rer  sought  his  home : 
With  weary  steps,  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
He  safely  reach'd  his  native  vale ; 
His  father's  arms,  his  mother's  kiss, 
Soon  realized  his  fancied  bliss ; 
And  well-known  voices  soothed  his  mind, 
Of  friends  he  long  had  left  behind. 
Now  free  from  heart-corroding  care, 
He  breathes  with  joy  the  balmy  air ; 
He  wanders  through  his  native  groves, 
And  peace  returns,  and  health  improves ; 
And  labor  brings  him  sweet  repose, 
Which  wild  ambition  never  knows ; 
And  all  his  sorrows  fade  away, 
Like  shadows  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
At  length,  more  wise  and  modest  grown, 
The  prodigal  is  brought  to  own, 
That  prudence  is  the  road  to  wealth, 
And  industry  the  friend  of  health; 
That  study  is  the  way  to  knowledge, 
At  home,  or  in  the  halls  of  college ; 
That  virtue  is  the  purest  pleasure, 
And  calm  content  the  greatest  treasure  ; 
That  splendid  wit  is  all  a  fallacy, 
And  honesty  the  safest  policy. 

Hamilton,  July,  1886. 


50  THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY. 

"  In  a  chariot  of  light,  from  the  regions  of  day, 

The  Goddess  of  Liberty  came; 
Ten  thousand  celestials  illumined  her  way. 

And  order  conducted  the  Dame.' 

MASONIC  MINSTREL. 

LONG  had  the  East,  in  weary  slumber  bound, 
Reclined  in  mental  solitude  profound, 
When  ignorance  her  boundless  empire  spread, 
And  dire  oppression  fill'd  mankind  with  dread, 
When  papal  mandates  trampled  on  the  law, 
While  nations  bow'd  with  unresisting  awe. 
The  lamp  of  science  faded  in  the  gloom, 
And  all  was  dark  and  dreary  as  the  tomb, — 
Save  when  the  bloody  steel  of  war  shone  bright, 
Like  meteors  glittering  in  the  depth  of  night. 
But  a  glorious  morning  began  to  appear, 
When  the  day  star,  adorning  the  heavens,  drew  near  ; 
When  the  press  and  the  pen  their  importance  display'd, 
And  knowledge  and  truth  were  diffused  by  their  aid; 
When  the  Bible  no  longer  from  men  was  conceal'd, 
And  spotless  Religion  its  beauty  reveal'd ; 
When  Newton  unfolded  the  wonders  of  heaven, 
And  the  course  of  the  stars  in  their  wide  circle  driven; 
When  the  magnet  was  found  to  be  true  to  the  pole, 
Though  the  tempest  should  rage  and  the  mad  billows  roll : 
When  daring  Columbus  his  genius  had  shown, 
And  discover'd  a  world  and  a  people  unknown. 
Now  bright  as  the  ray  which  illumines  the  earth, 
When  the  author  of  day  in  his  glory  shines  forth, 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY.  51 

From  the  regions  of  bliss,  in  a  chariot  of  light, 
Did  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  burst  on  the  sight. 
Array'd  in  her  robes  of  perpetual  youth, 
Attended  by  wisdom,  and  justice,  and  truth ; 
Protected  by  virtue  and  guided  by  love, 
She  had  left  her  bright  home  in  the  mansions  above, 
And  descended  to  earth,  a  new  dwelling  to  find, 
With  the  wisest,  the  bravest,  and  best  of  mankind. 
Then  first  she  paused  on  Afric's  burning  shore, 
Its  various  climes  and  people  to  explore. 
Here  roll'd  the  Nile  through  Egypt's  fertile  clime, 
Here  tower'd  the  pond'rous  pyramid  sublime ; 
There  lofty  Atlas  rose  above  the  plain, 
And  drear  Sahara  stretch'd  his  wide  domain ; 
But  stain'd  with  sensuality  and  lust, 
The  human  mind  lay  prostrate  in  the  dust. 
The  lions  roar'd  on  Ethiopia's  waste, 
And  tigers'  yells  were  mingled  with  the  blast ; 
While  the  dark  Ethiop,  fleeing  from  distress, 
Fled  not  to  knowledge  or  to  happiness. 
There  slave-ships  plough'd  the  Gambia's  golden  flood, 
Whose  dismal  dungeons  smoked  with  human  blood, 
While  frantic  negroes,  prostrate  on  the  strand, 
Now  bade  farewell  to  Guinea's  wretched  land ; 
Then,  bound  in  chains,  were  wafted  o'er  the  wave, 
Or  closed  their  sufferings  in  a  watery  grave. 
The  Goddess,  weeping,  saw  her  labor  lost, 
Then  wing'd  her  way  to  Asia's  verdant  coast. 
She  view'd  the  vast  variety  of  man, 
The  dark  Malay,  the  savage  Tartar  clan, 
In  northern  climes,  Siberia's  frozen  isles, 
Or  southern  shores  where  fragrant  India  smiles; 
Where  sacred  Ganges  rolls  his  purple  tide, 
Or  deep  Hoangho's  winding  waters  glide  ; 


52  THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY. 

Where  Himmaleh  is  crown'd  with  endless  snow, 

Or  bright  Arabia's  spicy  breezes  blow. 

Here  luxury  had  wove  her  silken  bands, 

And  sordid  nations  follow'd  her  commands ; 

A  race  effeminate,  a  sensual  crowd, 

To  idol  gods  in  adoration  bow'd  ; 

And  bloody  Juggernaut  was  roll'd  along, 

While  death  and  carnage  hover'd  o'er  the  throng. 

The  Goddess  paused,  oppress'd  with  growing  cares 
Then  turn'd  away  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears, 
Mourn'd  for  a  race  degraded  by  their  crimes, 
Then  swiftly  soar'd  to  Europe's  brighter  climes. 
In  classic  lands  she  sought  to  find  a  home, 
And  fondly  turn'd  to  visit  Greece  and  Rome. 
But  Greece  no  longer  fed  the  sacred  fires 
Which  beam'd  around  her  patriotic  sires ; 
No  Homer's  harp  in  lofty  numbers  rung, 
The  fame  of  no  Achilles  could  be  sung ; 
Her  marble  temples  crumbled  on  the  plain, 
And  Greece  submitted  to  the  Turkish  chain. 
Imperial  Rome,  once  mistress  of  the  East, 
Had  sunk  in  vice,  degraded  and  oppress'd ; 
Her  palaces,  with  age  and  moss  grown  gray, 
And  lofty  walls  were  hastening  to  decay. 
Vesuvius,  raging,  pour'd  his  fiery  streams, 
And  angry  Etna  belch'd  his  liquid  flames, 
While  father  Tiber  roll'd  his  yellow  waves, 
Mournful  and  silent  in  a  land  of  slaves. 

The  Goddess,  turning,  bade  a  sad  adieu ; 
Then  o'er  the  Alps  on  rapid  pinions  flew, 
Explored  the  wilds  of  Europe's  farthest  space, 
To  seek  and  bless  a  more  congenial  race. 
Here  Spain  exulted  in  her  balmy  bowers, 
Where  happy  lovers  pass'd  their  blissful  hours ; 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY. 

Here  France,  luxuriant,  till'd  the  fruitful  vine ; 
And  heedless  life  was  drown'd  with  mirth  and  wine. 
There,  in  a  narrow  hut,  mean  and  obscure, 
Joyless  and  wretched,  dwelt  the  German  boor  ; 
While  princely  halls,  magnificent  and  wide, 
Contrasted  poverty  with  wealth  and  pride. 
There  Russian  peasants,  doom'd  to  bootless  toil, 
Were  bought  and  sold  together  with  the  soil ; 
And  Swedish  hordes  were  sunk  in  dreamless  sleep, 
Where  stormy  Baltic  roll'd  his  mighty  deep. 
Here  Britain's  fairer  isle  in  prospect  lay, 
Queen  of  the  earth,  and  mistress  of  the  sea. 
The  silver  Thames,  upon  his  bosom,  bore 
A  thousand  ships  from  Europe's  farthest  shore, 
And  gentle  Avon  slowly  moved  along, 
Where  sages  listen'd  to  the  poet's  song. 
Here  infant  knowledge,  driven  by  savage  foes, 
From  tedious  flight  had  dared  to  seek  repose. 
But  genius  sung,  and  science  strove  in  vain, 
While  Europe  bow'd  beneath  the  tyrant's  chain  : 
Her  haughty  nobles  seized  the  reins  of  might, 
And  wealth  and  grandeur  triumph'd  over  right ; 
While  lawless  kings  were  sceptred  on  their  thrones, 
And  tears  were  mingled  with  the  people's  groans. 
The  heavenly  stranger,  overwhelm'd  with  care, 
Now  paused  awhile,  convulsed  in  mute  despair, 
Then  spread  her  glitt'ring  wings,  prepared  to  fly, 
And  seek  her  native  mansions  in  the  sky. 
Now  she  turn'd  with  regret  to  bid  mortals  adieu, 
When  the  bark  of  the  pilgrims  appear'd  in  her  view  ; 
Their  white  canvass  courted  the  prosperous  gale, 
From  the  land  of  oppression  and  terror  to  sail ; 
5* 


54  THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY. 

As  they  sought  a  retreat  in  a  region  afar, 

Beneath  the  pale  beams  of  Hesperia's  star. 

Fair  Liberty,  smiling,  advanced  by  their  side, 

And  the  Pilgrims  received  her,  their  guardian  and  guide ; 

And  the  fleet  spurn'd  the  sea  as  it  sail'd  o'er  the  wave, 

To  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave ; 

Till  they  reach'd  the  blue  shore  of  Atlantic's  vast  flood, 

Where  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  chose  her  abode. 

Now  the  blows  of  the  axe  in  the  wild  wood  resound, 

And  the  oak  of  the  forest  is  fell'd  to  the  ground  : 

The  meadows  enrobed  in  rich  verdure  appear, 

Where  the  shaft  of  the  savage  pursued  the  wild  deer ; 

The  fields  lately  barren  are  cover'd  with  grain, 

And  villages  rise  in  the  midst  of  the  plain. 

But  hark !  the  loud  yell  sounds  to  war's  dread  alarms, 
And  the  heroes  of  liberty  fly  to  their  arms. 
Now  the  savages  rush  from  the  depth  of  the  wood, 
Imbued  with  fresh  slaughter,  and  reeking  in  blood  ; — 
In  night's  awful  gloom  the  red  firebrands  they  hurl, 
While  the  volumes  of  smoke  in  the  dark  ether  curl, 
And  the  victims,  o'erwhelm'd  in  the  ruins  expire, 
Or  escape  from  the  flames  by  the  light  of  the  fire. 
Anon  see  the  champions  of  freedom  advance, 
With  tears  on  their  cheeks  and  revenge  in  their  glance. 
As  the  rock  meets  the  torrents  around  it  that  flow, 
Unmoved  they  sustain  the  attack  of  the  foe  ; 
As  the  torrents,  impetuous,  break  over  their  banks, 
They  crush  and  discomfit  the  enemy's  ranks ; 
Till  weary  and  weak,  their  hostilities  cease, 
And  they  bury  the  axe  'neath  the  broad  tree  of  peace. 
Now  Britain,  insatiate,  from  freemen  demands 
Thje  blood  of  their  bosoms,  the  work  of  their  hands ; 
And  baffled  in  plunder,  her  forces  prepare 
To  crush  Liberty's  realm  by  the  Hydra  of  war. 


THE  PROGRESS  OF  LIBERTY.  55 

But  armies  and  navies  advance  o'er  the  main, 
And  Britannia's  Lion  growls  thund'ring  in  vain ; 
For  the  strong  arm  of  truth  is  the  patriot's  guard, 
And  the  sword  of  the  just,  is  the  sword  of  the  Lord. 

Attended  by  wisdom,  and  virtue,  and  peace, 
Columbia's  wide  regions  in  glory  increase ; 
The  spirit  of  knowledge  revisits  the  West, 
By  slumber  and  darkness  no  longer  oppress'd  ; 
And  the  bright  sun  of  science  diffuses  his  rays 
Till  Europe  receives  a  new  light  from  the  blaze. 
On  swift  waving  pinions  fair  Liberty  rides, 
To  extend  her  dominions  o'er  Amazon's  tides ; 
Now  the  heights  of  the  Andes  acknowledge  her  power, 
And  the  climes  of  the  south  are  in  slavery  no  more. 

From  the  slumber  of  ages  the  Grecians  have  sprung, 
And  heroes  and  sages  the  clangor  have  rung  ; 
To  freedom  and  light  they  are  seeking  the  way, 
And  the  Ottoman  throne  hastens  on  to  decay. 
Saw  ye  the  lightning  flash  dart  from  the  sky  1 
Heard  ye  the  thunder  crash  roaring  on  high  1* 
'Tis  the  vengeance  of  heaven  on  the  head  of  the  foe, 
And  the  impious  crescent  lies  harmless  and  low. 
Fast  break  the  clouds  away,  fading  in  air, 
Revealing  the  lord  of  day,  splendid  and  fair, 
And  the  morning  breaks  forth,  when  the  multitude  see 
"  The  land  of  the  bard  and  the  warrior  free !" 
Now  swift  as  the  march  of  mind  light  shall  extend, 
Knowledge  and  justice  in  harmony  blend, 
Till  Science  illumes  the  terrestrial  ball, 
And  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  rules  over  all. 

Hamilton,  August,  1826. 

*  These  lines  were  written  shortly  after  the  fall  of  Missolonghi  was 
announced. 


56  CHANSON  DE  L'AMITIE. 


CHANSON  DE  L'AMITIE. 

"  The  world  is  bright  before  thce, 

Its  siiinmer-flow'rs  are  thine  : 
Its  calm  blue  sky  is  o'er  thee, 
Thy  bosom  pleasure's  shrine." 

MAY  Heaven's  constant  blessing. 

Preserve  thy  heart  from  wo; 
And  dearest  friends  caressing, 
Their  kindest  smiles  bestow ; 

And  brightly  may 

The  passing  day 
Its  pleasures  round  thee  strew. 

And  purest  joy, 

Without  alloy, 
Thy  peaceful  cup  o'erflow ! 

Thy  beaming  eye  of  beauty 

Be  free  from  sorrow's  tear  ; 
The  radiant  path  of  duty 

Be  still  thy  calm  career ; 
A  light  divine 
Around  thee  shine, 

Thy  sky  be  ever  clear, 
And  seen  afar, 
Hope's  vesper  star 

Thy  blissful  bosom  cheer ! 

But  when  on  wings  of  fleetness. 
Thy  years  have  glided  by ; 


CHANSON  DE  L  AMITIE. 

When  life  has  lost  its  sweetness, 
And  age  has  dimm'd  thine  eye ; 

Released  from  clay, 

Serenely  may 
Thy  gentle  spirit  fly, 

To  welcome  rest, 

Among  the  blest, 
In  realms  beyond  the  sky  ! 


57 


Hamilton,  August,  1826. 


58  ACADEMIC  ADDRESS. 


ACADEMIC  ADDRESS. 

ON  TAKING  LEAVE  OF  HAMILTON  ACADEMY. 

"  Oh  !  not  as  autumn  hirds  forsake  their  nest, 
But  to  return  when  summer  decks  the  plain  : 
Not  as  the  sun  that  slumbers  in  the  west, 
To  wake  to-morrow  in  the  east  again  ; 
Not  as  the  tone  of  harps,  by  winds  carest. 

Which,  hist  awhile,  swells  forth  in  sweeter  strain  ; 
But  like  a  spirit,  from  its  home  of  wo, 
That  parts,  unknowing  whither, — thus  ye  go  '" 

HARP  or  THE  ISLE. 

THE  day  declines  ;  the  hour  is  near, 

Which  calls  affection's  warmest  tear ; 

When  he  who  speaks  must  bid  adieu 

To  lips  so  warm,  and  hearts  so  true ; 

When  each  dear  friend  shall  leave  this  dome, 

To  greet  once  more  a  distant  home ; 

When  we  who  loved  so  much  may  sever, 

Perhaps  to  meet  no  more  for  ever ! 

Comrades  !  another  morn  will  rise, 

Again  the  sun  will  light  the  skies  ; 

Another  moon  shall  wax  and  wane, 

Young  flow'rs  once  more  will  grace  the  plain ; 

New  seasons  still  come  rolling  on ; 

But  where  !  oh,  where  shall  we  be  gone  ! 

Though  fancy's  scenes  with  joy  be  crown'd, 

And  hope's  bright  garlands  bloom  around  ; 

Yet  varied  as  the  raffing  sea 

Remains  the  tide  of  destiny. 

Oh  !  some  will  smile  in  pleasure's  bow'r, 

Perhaps  with  honor,  wealth,  and  pow'r ; 


ACADEMIC  ADDRESS.  59 

And  some  will  trim  the  midnight  lamp, 

And  some  will  seek  the  wairior's  camp ; 

And  some  to  distant  lands  may  hie, 

Away  to  live,  unknown  to  die  ; 

And  some  true  hearts  perchance  will  sleep 

Beneath  the  bosom  of  the  deep ! 

Yet  long  shall  faithful  memory  tell 

How  friends  have  sigh'd  to  bid  farewell ; 

And  oft  affection  shall  remind  us 

Of  scenes  and  pleasures  left  behind  us ; — 

Of  sunny  prospects,  cooling  shades, 

And  moonlight  walks  in  verdant  glades, 

Of  study's  ardent  meditation, 

And  summer-evening's  recreation ; — 

Of  former  days  of  joy  and  gladness, 

And  parting  hours  of  grief  and  sadness. 
For  ours  has  been  the  early  lesson, 

To  expand  the  mind  and  form  the  reason  ; 

To  move  the  pen  with  ease  and  grace, 

The  rules  of  language  to  retrace; 

The  depth  of  numbers  to  explore, 

And  comprehend  their  boundless  pow'r, 

Where  figures,  variously  design'd, 

And  symbols  aid  the  wearied  mind  ; 

The  earth's  vast  surface  to  compare, 

By  map  and  chart,  or  rolling  sphere; 

To  learn  the  state  of  mighty  nations, 

With  all  their  various  relations  ; 

Their  arts  and  laws  to  ascertain, 

Their  numerous  customs  to  explain : 

To  know,  from  history's  pond'rous  pages, 

The  glorious  deeds  of  former  ages ; 

What  famous  men  have  pass'd  away, 

Or  empires  fallen  to  decay  ; 


60  ACADEMIC  ADDRESS. 

To  trace  the  planets  as  they  fly, 

Along  the  blue  ethereal  sky ; 

To  find  the  cause  of  nature's  changes, 

As  through  the  elements  she  ranges ; 

Why  heavy  bodies  seek  the  ground, 

Or  lightning  spreads  destruction  round  : 

To  speak  with  force  and  eloquence, 

And  write  with  purity  and  sense ; 

In  ancient  authors  to  explore 

The  mysteries  of  classic  lore ; 

In  modern  tongues  our  thoughts  to  frame, 

And  spread  afar  our  country's  fame  ; 

'Twas  ours  to  climb  truth's  lofty  mountain, 

And  drink  at  learning's  deepest  fountain. 

But  "  know  yourselves,"  your  nature  scan, 
And  study  well  the  mind  of  man. 
To  be  respected,  good  and  wise 
Beyond  the  pow'r  of  learning  lies ; 
Virtue  alone  can  make  us  great, 
In  this  and  in  a  future  state ; 
On  that  depends  our  solid  worth, 
Whate'er  our  fortune,  rank  or  birth  ; 
A  constant  guide,  a  sure  defence, 
Its  pleasure  is  its  recompence. 
Then  may  our  minds,  in  early  youth, 
Imbibe  the  principles  of  truth  ; 
May  virtue's  precepts  guide  our  ways 
Through  life's  untrodden,  thorny  maze ; 
So  shall  we  walk  the  path  of  peace ; 
So  shall  prosperity  increase  ; 
Thus  shall  our  days  be  happy  here, 
And  pass  away  without  a  tear ! 

Though  rude  the  winds  of  winter  blow, 
On  endless  heaps  of  drifted  snow  ; 


I 


ACADEMIC  ADDRESS.  61 

Spring  quick  returns,  with  gentle  show'rs, 
And  vernal  landscapes  deck'd  with  flow'rs, 
Till  Cancer's  sun  pours  down  his  rays, 
And  summer  burns  beneath  his  blaze. 
Then  Ceres  leads  her  welcome  train, 
And  waves  the  fields  of  golden  grain, 
Till  winter  comes,  with  aspect  drear, 
And  ends  the  swift  revolving  year. 
Such  is  the  fleeting  life  of  man ; 
His  moments  few,  his  days  a  span  : 
Soon  as  the  sun  of  knowledge  shines, 
His  verdant  spring  of  life  declines ; 
And  should  he  pass  a  summer  hour, 
Of  science,  honor,  wealth  or  pow'r, 
That  summer  soon  will  pass  away, 
The  fruits  of  autumn  soon  decay, 
And  wintry  age,  with  gasping  breath, 
Will  close  the  solemn  scene  in  death  ! 
Like  bubbles  on  the  ocean's  shore, 
Which  rise,  and  straight  are  seen  no  more  ; 
Or  like  the  track  upon  the  sand, 
When  whirlwinds  blow  on  Guinea's  strand  ; 
His  name  is  blotted  from  the  earth, 
Nor  fame  prevails,  nor  noble  birth ; 
His  spirit  hastens  to  the  bourne, 
From  which  no  traveller  can  return  ! 
But  there's  a  blissful  world  above, 
The  mansion  of  a  Saviour's  love, 
Where  care  and  sorrow  ever  cease, 
And  happy  spirits  rest  in  peace. 
And  there's  a  pow'r  that  aids  the  soul 
To  gain  that  high  and  shining  goal ; 
6 


62  ACADEMIC  ADDRKSS. 

And  there's  a  book  that  points  the  way 
To  that  fair  realm  of  endless  day  ; 
Make  this  your  £uide,  and  yours  shall  be 
The  pleasures  of  eternity  ! 

Hamilton,  Sept.,  1826. 


XEW  YEARS  ODE. 


NEW  YEARS  ODE. 

Written  for  the  Phoenician  Society  of  Hamilton  College. 

Hail  to  the  lovers  of  music  and  mystery  ! 

Hail,  fellow-students,  both  sober  and  gay  ! 
Science  and  Politics,  Grammar  and  History, 

Reason  and  Logic  are  crazy  to  day  : 
My  rhyme  is  ill-chosen,  my  ink  is  all  frozen, 

And  blots  by  the  dozen  around  me  appear ; 
But  still  in  the  issue,  before  they  dismiss  you, 

Permit  me  to  wish  you  a  happy  new  year. 

Now  in  the  time  of  the  festival  holidays, 

Christmas,  Thanksgiving,  and  New  Years  and  all, 
When  Freshmen  and  Seniors  together  keep  jolly  days, 

Down  Clinton  Street  or  up  Hamilton  hall ; 
When  books  are  neglected,  and  study  rejected, 

And  pleasure  expected  by  all  ranks  of  men  ; 
In  this  merry  season,  it  cannot  be  treason 

That  rhyme  without  reason  should  govern  the  pen. 

Sing  then  of  peace  and  continued  prosperity, 

Raise  the  glad  anthem  abroad  and  at  home ; 
Trumpet  our  nation's  renown  to  posterity, 

Tell  of  her  glory  in  ages  to  come  : 
Our  internal  ditches,  the  wonder  of  witches, 

Will  add  to  our  riches  and  cherish  our  trade, 
While  steam  and  canal  boats,  and  large  ships  and  sail-boats, 

And  packets  and  mail  boats  our  commerce  will  aid. 


64  NEW  YEARS  ODE. 

Sing  of  our  Congress  and  President's  message, 

Talk  upon  politics  much  as  you  will ; 
May  every  good  law  have  a  speedier  passage, 

And  every  dull  speech-making  member  be  still ; 
May  truth  be  regarded,  and  merit  rewarded, 

And  error  retarded,  while  vices  are  few  ; 
That  every  vile  faction,  or  wicked  transaction, 

May  meet  with  detection  and  punishment  due. 

Sing  of  uncommon  escapes  and  recoveries, 

Steam-boilers  bursting,  or  stages  upset ; 
Sing  of  inventions  and  noted  discoveries, 

Since  the  last  visit  of  General  Fayette; 
Of  Reynolds's  lectures,  and  Mitchell's  conjectures, 

With  spider-web  textures  of  arguments  thin, 
On  Capt.  Symmes'  notions  of  internal  oceans, 

And  wonderful  motions  of  regions  within. 

Sing  of  our  maidens,  so  lively  and  pretty, 

With  cheeks  of  the  rose  and  the  lily  combined, 
With  red  lips,  and  bright  eyes,  and  ringlets  so  jetty, 

Adorn'd  with  all  graces  of  person  and  mind. 
Still  may  they  inherit  the  beauty  and  merit, 

And  well-temper'd  spirit,  which  lovers  revere  ; 
And  each  be  surrounded  with  pleasure  unbounded, 

While  joy's  trump  is  sounded,  this  happy  New  Year  ! 

Hamilton  College,  Jan.  1,  1827. 


THE  REQUIEM. 


65 


THE  REQUIEM. 

On  the  death  of  a  Classmate,  Cadet  Marks  J.  B.  Wood,  of  Georgia, 
ut  West  Point,  March  19,  1828. 

WHY  rolls  the  solemn,  muffled  drum, 

And  peal  the  notes  of  wo  ? 
As  on  the  breeze  their  accents  float, 

So  mournfully  and  slow  : 
Why  stoops  yon  spangled  banner 

From  its  glorious  seat  above] 
And  why  does  yon  procession 

In  funereal  silence  move  1 

From  its  frail  abode  of  sorrow 

Has  a  noble  spirit  fled  ; 
A  young  and  gallant  soldier  sleeps 

Among  the  silent  dead ; 
And  yonder  are  his  weeping  friends, 

The  generous  and  the  brave, 
To  bid  a  long,  a  last  farewell, 

And  lay  him  in  the  grave. 

He  fell ; — not  in  the  battle-field, 

Where  war's  loud  thunders  sound, 
Where  heaps  of  slain  and  wounded  lie 

Along  the  bloody  ground ; 
But  darker  was  his  hapless  fate, 

By  grim  disease  to  fall, 
Than  have  the  flag  of  triumph 

O'erspread  his  funeral  pall. 
6* 


aft 

THE  REQUIEM. 

He  died ; — not  in  his  early  home, 

So  dear  to  fancy's  view, 
Where  once  among  the  scenes  of  youth 

His  rapturous  moments  flew  : 
No  dear  relation  at  his  side 

Received  his  parting  breath  ; 
An  orphan,  in  a  distant  land, 

He  closed  his  eyes  in  death. 

But  bitterly  was  shed  for  him 

Affection's  warmest  tear ; 
And  many  youthful  cheeks  were  wet, 

Around  his  lonely  bier . 
And  the  hearts  of  his  companions 

Shall  be  his  sacred  urn, 
Till  all  the  friends  who  weep  for  him 

To  dust  again  return. 

His  mortal  frame  is  mouldering 

Beneath  the  dreary  clod ; 
His  spirit  has  return'd 

To  its  Creator  and  its  God  : 
Then  rest  thee,  brother  soldier, 

In  thy  lone  but  peaceful  tomb, 
Till  the  angels'  trump  shall  call  thee, 

In  the  final  day  of  doom ! 

May'st  thou,  at  that  dread  moment, 
In  immortal  glory  rise, 

Robed  in  the  spotless  uniform 

* 

Of  saints  beyond  the  skies ; 


THE  REQUIEM.  67 

And  there  may  we  all  meet  thee, 

On  that  celestial  shore, 
Where  sorrow  turns  to  gladness, 

And  where  friends  shall  part  no  more ! 


West  Point,  1828. 


• 

68  TO  A  GOLDFINCH. 

TO  A  GOLDFINCH, 

Which,  after  having  escaped  from  its  cage,  returned  to  its  fair  owner. 

BIRD  of  the  gentle  wing, 

Songster  of  air, 
Home,  from  thy  wandering, 

Dost  thou  repair  1 
Art  thou  deserted  then, 

Wilder'd  and  lone  ] 
Come  to  my  breast  again, 

Beautiful  one. 

• 

Here  in  the  rosy  beds 

Hover  anew; 
Eating  the  garden  seeds, 

Sipping  the  dew  : 
Then  in  my  bower 

The  fragrance  inhale 
Of  each  lovely  flower 

That  waves  in  the  gale. 

When  the  bright  morning  star, 

Rising  on  high, 
Day's  early  harbinger, 

Shines  in  the  sky, 
Then  shall  thy  numbers, 

So  lively  and  gay, 
Rouse  me  from  slumbers, 

To  welcome  the  day. 


TO  A  GOLDFINCH. 

When  the  still  evening  comes, 

Tranquil  and  clear ;        * 
When  the  dull  beetle  roams, 

Drumming  the  air; 
Then,  on  the  willow-trees 

Shading  the  door, 
Sing  me  thy  melodies 

Over  once  more. 

Thus  shall  the  moments  fly 

Sweetly  along, 
Tuned  to  thy  minstrelsy, 

Cheer'd  by  thy  song ; 
Till  as  the  light  declines 

Far  in  the  west, 
Thou,  'mid  the  trellis'd  vines, 

Hush  thee  to  rest. 


West  Point,  May,  1828, 


- 


70  MAOARA  FALLS. 


NIAGARA  FALLS. 

Written   in  remembrance  of  a  visit  to  Niagara,  and  Queenstown  ; 
April  20,  1827. 

"  Niagara  rolls  on.    The  faithless  wave, 

That  tore  the  Indian  from  his  gentle  cove, 

Is  smooth  and  bright  as  silver.    Nothing  speaks 

Of  last  night's  rain  :  and  now  the  rainbow  smiles, 

And  the  while  gull  flaps  through  its  orange  light; 

And  the  eternal  roaring  of  the  Falls 

Goes  on  the  same.    Wild  Indian,  farewell ! 

Thou  wert  a  brother,  and  thy  dying  bed 

Was  the  white  lashing  spray  ; — thy  only  knell 

The  Rapid's  thunder ; — and  the  deep,  deep  gulf 

Thy  sunless  sepulchre !" 

J.  R.  ORTOJJ. 

THE  sun  shone  brightly  o'er  me  as  I  stood 

And  gazed  upon  Niagara's  swelling  flood ; — 

Whose  waters,  springing  from  a  distant  source, 

Through  ages  past  have  sped  their  solemn  course ; 

Then  rushing  downward,  o'er  the  lofty  rock, 

Have  made  the  mountains  tremble  with  their  shock ; 

Till  flowing  on  majestical  and  free, 

They  join'd  afar  the  bosom  of  the  sea. 

Between  rich  plains,  extending  far  around, 

And  gentle  hills  with  verdant  foliage  crown'd, 

Whose  sloping  sides  grow  dim  in  distant  blue, 

Niagara  river  steals  upon  the  view. 

Then  winding  slow  the  current  glides  along 

Its  fertile  isles  and  sunny  banks  among, 

Till  soon  it  meets  a  rough  and  rocky  bed, 

And  o'er  the  rapids  dashes  on  with  speed ; — 


NIAGARA  FALLS.  71 

Sinks  in  the  hollows,  swells  and  sinks  again, 

And  rolls  its  billows  like  the  raging  main : — 

Now  the  huge  breakers  raise  it  to  the  skies, 

Whirlpools  revolve,  and  foaming  mountains  rise. 

New  floods  behind,  the  waves  before  them  urge, 

Approaching  nearer  to  the  giddy  verge  ; 

Till  a  fair  isle  the  mighty  current  braves, 

And  with  its  front  divides  the  yielding  waves. 

On  either  side  the  mighty  waters  roll, 

And  ceaseless  hurry  to  the  frightful  goal ; 

Then  from  the  lofty  rocks  with  awful  sound 

Fall  headlong  downward  to  the  vast  profound, — 

Speed  to  the  bottom,  swell  the  deeps  below, — 

Rise  to  the  surface,  boiling  as  they  flow  ; — 

In  eddying  circles  vent  their  angry  force  ; — 

Then  join  the  current  and  pursue  their  course. 

Here  on  the  brow  the  sea-green  flood  rolls  by, 

Reflecting  all  the  brightness  of  the  sky, 

While  piles  of  foam,  the  cataract  beneath, 

Hang  o'er  the  rocks  and  round  the  billows  wreathe. 

There,  as  the  falling  torrent  meets  the  air, 

White  foaming  fleeces  down  the  chasm  appear  ; 

And  the  bright  rainbow  through  the  misty  spray, 

Shines  in  the  sun  and  gilds  the  face  of  day. 

And  far  below,  from  adamantine  beds, 

The  rocky  banks  erect  their  hoary  heads ; — 

While  lofty  trees,  like  dwarfs,  above  them  seen, 

Clothe  the  high  cliffs  with  robes  of  brightest  green ; 

Like  uptorn  Ossa,  from  its  centre  riven, 

When  the  fierce  giants  fought  the  pow'rs  of  heav'n. 

I  thought  when  gazing  on  this  glorious  view7, 
How  once  the  Indian,  in  his  bark  canoe, 
While  fishing  far  away  upon  the  wave, 
Was  swiftly  buried  in  a  wat'ry  grave. 


NIAGARA  FALLS. 

As  moor'd  at  anchor  on  the  treacherous  flood, 

He  throws  his  net  and  line  in  sportive  mood, 

How  great  his  horror  when  at  first  he  hears 

The  cataract  swelling  louder  on  his  ears ; 

When  first,  beneath  the  evening's  dusky  hue, 

The  mighty  rapid  breaks  upon  his  view ; 

And  unsuspected,  with  the  currents'  glide, 

His  little  boat  is  carried  by  the  tide, — 

While  the  dim  figures  seen  upon  the  strand 

Move  with  the  stream  which  bears  him  from  the  land 

Then  is  his  angle  rod  in  haste  thrown  by, 

While  resolution  flashes  from  his  eye ; 

Then  his  strong  arm,  unceasing  bends  the  oar, 

His  course  directing  to  the  nearest  shore  ; 

At  every  stroke  he  dashes  through  the  foam, 

And  anxiously  seems  drawing  toward  his  home. 

Row  !  Indian,  row  !  avoid  the  fearful  steep  ! 

Bend  the  light  bark,  and  o'er  the  waters  sweep  ! 

Too  late,  alas  !  the  vigorous  arm  is  strung; 

The  rapid  current  hurries  him  along  ! 

In  vain  he  sees  his  cabin  gleam  afar, 

Beneath  the  twinkling  of  the  evening  star; — 

The  shore  recedes,  the  hut  eludes  his  sight, 

Then  fades  in  distance  mid  the  gloom  of  night ! 

And  now  the  breakers  swell  with  lofty  waves, 

And  now  his  bark  their  foaming  summit  cleaves; 

Despair  now  seizes  on  his  wearied  breast, 

His  oars  neglected  lie  upon  their  rest ; 

His  dog,  unheeded,  fawns  upon  his  side, 

Then  leaps,  unconscious,  in  the  fatal  tide. 

One  pray'r  is  utter'd  by  his  wilder'd  mind ; 

Then  sits  the  Indian,  silent  and  resign'd, 

And  in  his  light  canoe  with  patience  waits 

The  speedy  issue  of  his  awful  fates. 


NIAGARA  FALLS.  73 

Now  roar  the  waters,  terrible  and  loud, 
As  heaviest  thunder  from  the  blackest  cloud  ; 
And  now  the  chasm  its  awful  depth  reveals, 
And  now  the  bark  upon  its  summit  reels ; 
Then  down  the  vast  abyss  is  viewless  borne, 
To  depths  of  darkness,  never  to  return ! 
The  setting  sun  beheld  him  far  from  shore, 
Whom  rising  morn  shall  ne'er  awaken  more ; 
But  on  the  beach  his  bones  unburied  lie, 
And  whiten  under  many  a  summer's  sky ; 
And  oft,  the  Indians  say,  his  spirit  roves, 
Where  once  he  hunted  in  his  native  groves  ; 
And  ever  as  he  flies  before  the  wind, 
His  faithful  dog  still  follows  close  behind ; 
And  oft  in  loneliness  the  maiden  weeps, 
Beside  the  waters  where  her  hero  sleeps ; 
And  oft  the  stranger  listens  to  his  tale, 
And  hears  the  warriors  raise  his  funeral  wail ; 
While  fervent  prayers  to  the  Great  Spirit  rise, 
To  bless  their  brother-hunter  in  the  skies. 

West  Point,  Oct.,  1828. 


74  THE  GARLAND. 


THE  GARLAND. 

Written  for  and  at  the  request  of  a  Friend,  to  whom  the  writer  would 
here  apologize  for  seeming  but  unintended  neglect. 

I'VE  braided  thee  a  garland  bright, 

Of  lovely  flow'rs  combined, 
An  emblem  of  thy  gentle  form, 

A  symbol  of  thy  mind ; 
Oh !  may,  with  each  returning  spring, 

Thy  hopes  as  radiant  be ! 
Then  wear  the  wreath  upon  thy  brow, 

And  still  remember  me. 

I've  pluck'd  the  mountain  evergreen, 

A  token  of  thy  truth  ; 
I've  deck'd  it  with  the  blooming  rose, 

The  lovely  type  of  youth ; 
I've  sought  the  modest  violet, 

Around  the  verdant  dell ; 
I've  cull'd  the  lily  of  the  vale, 

Thy  purity  to  tell. 

And  brightly  will  the  garland  twine 

Around  thine  auburn  hair ; 
Its  roses  with  thy  rosy  cheeks 

Will  beauteously  compare ; 
The  lilies  with  thine  ivory  brow 

As  gracefully  will  vie ; 
And  dew-drop  gems  will  sparkle  there, 

To  match  thy  beaming  eye. 


»  THE  GARLAND.  75 

Alas !  that  flow'rs  so  beautiful 

Must  wither  and  decay ; 
Alas  !  that  thus  the  fairest  form 

Must  shortly  fade  away ; 
But  may'st  thou  see*k  a  better  part, 

A  brighter  world  on  high, 
And  smile  to  see  in  death's  dark  storm 

The  rainbow  of  the  sky. 

Then  wear  this  garland  on  thy  brow, 

And  think  by  whom  'twas  wove ; 
Oh !  keep  it  as  the  sacred  pledge 

Of  warm,  devoted  love  ! 
And  still  with  each  returning  spring 

I'll  twine  fresh  flow'rs  for  thee, 
If  thou  wilt  take  this  blooming  wreath, 

And  kindly  smile  to  me  ! 

West  Point,  Oct.,  1828. 


76  THE  HERMIT'S  VESPER  HYMN. 


THE  HERMIT'S  VESPER  HYMN. 

"  'Twas  then  by  the  cave  of  a  mountain  afar, 
A  hermit  his  song  of  the  night  thus  began  ; 

No  more  with  himself  or  with  Nature  at  war, 
He  thought  as  a  sage,  though  he  felt  as  a  man." 

BEVTTIE. 

A  HERMIT  of  the  forest  wild, 

Far  from  the  busy  throng, 
His  lonely  moments  thus  beguiled, 

And  sung  his  vesper  song : 

"  Eternal  Lord  of  earth  and  sky ! 

Thou  great  unseen,  unknown  ! 
Who  dwell'st  in  sovereign  majesty, 

Omnipotent  alone ; — 

Thou  art  the  source  of  every  good, 

My  help  in  every  care ; 
Thou  quell'st  the  raging  of  the  flood, 

And  tempest  of  the  air. 

The  glittering  stars  their  courses  run, 

By  thy  supreme  decree ; 
The  evening  moon,  and  morning  sun, 

Receive  their  light  from  thee. 

By  thee  the  earth  is  crown'd  with  flow'rs, 

And  yellow  fields  of  grain  ; 
By  thee  the  clouds  send  down  their  show'rs. 

And  verdure  decks  the  plain. 


THE  HERMIT'S  VESPER  HYMN.  77 

To  thee  all  creatures  owe  their  birth, 

That  swim,  or  fly,  or  creep; — 
The  fowl  of  air,  the  beast  of  earth, 

And  monster  of  the  deep. 

And  man  is  thine :  his  wondrous  frame 

Was  fashioned  by  thy  hand; 
The  vital  spark,  from  thee  that  came, 

Departs  at  thy  command. 

Oh  !  be  my  guardian  and  guide, 

My  father  and  my  friend, 
Till  whelm'd  in  death's  resistless  tide, 

My  pilgrimage  shall  end !" 

West  Point,  Oct.,  1828. 


78  THE  IMMOVEABLE  JAW. 


THE  IMMOVEABLE  JAW. 

Recording  a  fact  which  actually  occurred,  and  the  allusion  to  which 
will,  it  is  hoped,  be  pardoned  by  the  valued  Friend  to  whom  the  accident 
or  adventure  pertained. 

THE  subject  of  my  story,  or  the  hero  of  my  tale, 
Is  an  under  jaw  immoveable  as  that  of  Jonah's  whale, 
A  mouth  so  wide  extended,  that  at  one  devouring  swoop 
'Twould  easily  have  swallow'd  down  the  whole  of  Korah's 
troop. 

No  doubt  you've  heard  of  mouths,  my  friends,  of  ev'ry  size 

and  shape, 
Of  twisted  mouths,  and  mouths  awry,  that  never  dared  to 

gape, 
Of  pretty  mouths  with  cherry  lips,  of  which  fair  maidens 

boast, 
Just  made  to  kiss  and  sip  their  tea,  and  mince  their  sweeten'd 

toast. 

You  may  have  heard  of  jaws,  my  friends,  much  more  than 

I  can  prate, 
Of  steel-trap  jaws,  and  lantern  jaws,  and  crooked  ones  and 

straight ; 
And  death  by  means  of  jaws,  they  say,  has  sometimes 

come  to  pass, 
For  Sampson  slew  his  thousands  with  the  jaw-bone  of  an 

ass. 


THE  IMMOVEABLE  JAW.  79 

I  will  not,  therefore,  try  to  say  for  what  all  jaws  were 

made, 
Although   there's  reason  to  believe  that  eating  is  their 

trade ; 
But  jaws  you  ought  to  know  are  moved  on  hinges  tough  as 

leather, 
And  when  they're  stretch'd  too  far  apart,  they  will  not  come 

together. 

For  once  upon  a  time,  it  is  the  truth  that  I  relate, 

A  certain  under  jaw,  sirs,  underwent  a  doleful  fate ; 

One  evening  when  its  owner  yawn'd,  as  sleepy  men  will 

do, 
This  jaw  hung  down  most  sadly,  and  he  could  not  shut  it  to. 

We  hasten'd  for  a  surgeon ;  but  no  surgeon  could  be  found ; 
And  terror  first,  but  mirth  at  last,  drew  many  gazers  round ; 
Till  viewing  in  the  looking-glass  his  much  distorted  face, 
Our  friend  laughed  too,  so  keenly,  that  his  jaw  resumed 
its  place. 

West  Point,  Nov.,  1828. 


80  THE  SEA  AND  THE  STORM. 


THE  SEA  AND  THE  STORM. 


"  I  have  said  that  the  honor  of  a  nation  requires  it  to  engage  in  war 
for  a  wise  end.  I  add,  as  a  more  important  rule,  that  its  dignity  demands 
of  it  tnengage  in  no  conflict  without  a  full  consciousness  of  rectitude.  .  . 
In  declaring  war,  it  should  listen  only  to  the  voice  of  duty.  To  resolve 
on  the  destruction  of  our  fellow-creatures  without  a  command  from  con 
science,  a  commission  from  God,  is  to  bring  on  a  people  a  load  ol  infamy 
and  crime." 

REV.  DR.  CHANKINO. 


THE  mist  descended  from  the  snow 

That  whiten'd  o'er  the  cliff; 
The  clouds  were  gather'd  round  its  brow, 
And  solemn  darkness  reign'd  below 

The  peak  of  Teneriffe. 

For  on  that  rocky  peak  and  high, 

Magnificent  and  lone, 
The  awful  storm-king  of  the  sky, 
Beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  eye, 

Had  rear'd  his  cloudy  throne. 

By  him  the  raging  winds  unfurl'd, 

Swept  o'er  the  prostrate  land ; 
And  thence,  above  the  affrighted  world, 
The  flashing  thunder-bolts  were  hurl'd 
Forth  from  his  red  right  hand. — 


THE  SEA  AND  THE  STORM.  81 

Uprising  from  his  cave  of  jet, 

While  mists  obscured  his  form, 
With  streaming-  locks  and  vesture  wet, 
The  Spirit  of  the  ocean  met 

The  Spirit  of  the  storm. 

"  And  why  so  madly  dost  thou  dare, 

Proud  Spirit  of  the  sea, 
To  tempt  the  monarch  of  the  air, 
With  the  whirlwind's  rage  and  the  lightning's  glare? 

What  seekest  thou  of  me  1" 

"  I  have  risen  afar  from  my  coral  caves, 

Where  the  pearls  are  sparkling  bright, 
To  roam  o'er  the  isles  I  have  girt  with  my  waves ; 
And  I  hurl  defiance  at  thee  and  thy  slaves, 

And  I  challenge  thee  here  to  the  fight !" 

"  Take  this  in  return !"  and  the  thunderbolt  rush'd 

From  the  midst  of  a  cloud  of  fire ; 
The  tempest  forth  from  his  nostrils  gush'd, 
And  the  island  forest  his  footsteps  crush'd, 

In  the  burning  of  his  ire. 

Now  fierce  o'er  the  waters  mad  hurricanes  boom, 

And  the  depths  of  the  ocean  uprend ; 
Now  the  waves  lash  the  skies  with  their  torrents  of  foam, 
And  whirlwinds  and  billows  in  furious  gloom, 

Meet,  mingle,  and  fiercely  contend. 

But  the  monarch  of  ocean  spurns  his  thrall, 
And  evades  his  fierce  control; — 


82  THE  SEA  AND  THE  STORM. 

Away  in  his  ice-clad  crystal  hall, 
He  still  reigns  absolute  monarch  of  all 
That  surrounds  his  frozen  pole. 

The  day  breaks  forth,  and  the  storm  is  past, — 

Again  are  the  elements  free ; 
But  many  a  vessel  is  still  sinking  fast, 
And  many  a  mariner  rests  at  last, 

In  the  bosom  of  the  sea ! 

Even  thus  when  monarchs  hostilities  wage, 

And  the  war-cry  fills  the  air, 
When  nations  are  plunder'd,  and  armies  engage, 
The  peaceful  and  weak  fall  a  prey  to  their  rage, 

But  what  place  has  justice  there? 

West  Point,  Jan.,  1829. 


TO  MY  SISTER. 


83 


TO  MY  SISTER. 

"  The  same  fond  mother  bent  at  night 
O'er^each  fair  sleeping  brow; 

She  had  each  folded  flow'r  in  sight,— 
Where  are  those  dreamers  now  ? 

"  They  that  with  smiles  lit  up  the  hall* 
And  cheer'd  with  song  the  hearths- 
Alas  !  for  love,  if  thou  wert  all, 
And  nought  beyond,  Oh,  earth!" 

MRS.  HEMA.NS. 


AGAIN  beneath  our  early  home, 

I  meet  thee,  fill'd  with  hope  and  gladness, 
But  soon,  too  soon,  the  time  will  come, 

When  tears  of  joy  will  change  to  sadness. 
I  knew  thee  once,  a  beauteous  child, 
That  sweetly  in  the  cradle  smiled ; 
And  I  have  rock'd  thee  as  thou  slept, 
And  o'er  thy  slumbers  vigils  kept ; 
And  I  have  heard  thee  lisp  my  name, — 
And  I  have  loved  thee  still  the  same, 
And  thought  of  thee,  when  far  away 

Within  the  dwelling  of  the  stranger ; 
Through  lingering  eve,  and  livelong  day, 

Or  in  the  darkest  hour  of  danger. 

I  see  thee  now  a  vernal  flow'r, 
Its  hue  and  fragrancy  unfolding ; 

And  oh  !  in  spring's  delightful  bow'r, 
What  fairer  form  is  worth  beholding ! — 


84  TO  MY  SISTER. 

And  other  changes  still  will  come, 
And  thou  wilt  leave  thine  early  home ; 
And  other  friends  will  meet  thy  gaze, 
And  other  tongues  will  speak  thy  praise, 
And  Providence  thy  life  will  bless, 
With  plenty,  peace,  and  happiness. 
Oh  then,  when  I  am  far  away, 

And  thou  art  given  to  another, 

Wilt  thou  among  the  proud  and  gay 

Remember  still  thy  distant  brother ! 

Thus  on  the  rapid  years  will  pass, 

And  life's  bright  summer  sun  be  shaded  ; 
And  then  thine  image  in  the  glass, 

Will  tell  thee  how  those  charms  are  faded. 
And  friends  will  leave  thee,  one  by  one, 
Till  all  thy  intimates  are  gone ; 
And  sorrow  then  will  cloud  thy  brow, 
So  beautiful  and  joyous  now, 
Till  all  the  pleasures  known  before, 
Shall  be  experienced  no  more : 
And  then  the  final  change  will  come, 

And  all  the  ties  of  life  will  sever ; 
And  thou  wilt  sleep  beneath  the  tomb, 

To  wake  but  once  again,  for  ever ! 

And  what  is  life  1  'tis  all  of  time 
That  to  the  human  race  is  given ; 

A  rugged  path  which  all  must  climb, 
That  sinks  to  hell  or  mounts  to  heaven. 

'Tis  like  the  flowing  of  a  stream, 

Or  like  the  changes  of  a  dream. 

The  dream  that  flits  across  the  mind, 

Leaves  no  reality  behind  ; 


TO  MY  SISTER.  85 

The  stream  is  lost  beneath  the  sea, 

As  time  beneath  eternity. 

Eternity  !  a  boundless  deep, 
Devouring  time  since  earth's  creation, 

Where  time  and  nature  both  must  sleep, 
Hereafter  in  annihilation ! 

'Tis  not  the  joys  that  earth  can  give, 
Though  good,  and  pure,  and  worth  possessing, 

For  which  the  prudent  mind  will  live, 
Or  which  will  prove  its  greatest  blessing. 

The  path  of  peace  and  innocence, 

A  conscience  void  of  all  offence, — 

The  Christian's  faith,  the  Christian's  love, 

The  gift  that  cometh  from  above, 

Are  higher,  nobler  ends  than  this, 

And  sources  of  a  purer  bliss. 

Oblivion  soon  will  spread  its  pall, 
Eternity  will  ope  its  portals ; 

Alas  to  man,  if  earth  were  all 
Of  happiness  to  dying  mortals  ! 

May'st  thou,  my  sister,  seek  the  prize, 
That  lasts  though  poverty  assail  thee ; 

A  heritance  beyond  the  skies, 
A  treasure  that  will  never  fail  thee. 

May  peace  and  plenty  deck  thy  shrine, 

Be  health  and  reason  ever  thine ; 

May  truth  and  virtue  guide  thy  ways, 

Through  life's  perplex'd  and  thorny  maze ; — 

And  may  religion  guard  thy  path, 

Through  life,  and  through  the  gates  of  death ; 
8 


86  TO  MY  SISTER. 

•  * 

Then,  when  thy  form  in  darkness  lies, 
And  moulders  in  its  peaceful  slumbers, 

Serenely  may  thy  spirit  rise 
Where  angels  hymn  their  tuneful  numbers  ! 

Burlington,  Otsego  Co.,  N.  F.,  July,  1829. 


TO  THE  EVENING  STAR.  87 


TO  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

"  The  star  can  shine  on  many  brooks ; — 
The  brook  can  see  no  star  but  this." 

STAR  of  evening,  beaming  bright, 
With  a  never  dying  light ; 
Still  thy  constant  course  pursue, 
Ever  welcome  to  my  view. 

Star  of  evening,  I  have  oft 
Watch'd  thy  constant  course  aloft, 
When  the  frequent  fleecy  cloud 
Wrapt  thee  in  its  sombre  shroud. 

I  have  waited  till  again 
Should  thy  beams  illume  the  plain; 
And  have  seen  thy  parting  ray, 
O'er  the  waters,  twinkling,  play. 

When  the  sailor's  course  is  lost, 
And  his  vessel  tempest-toss'd, — 
Joyfully  he  turns  to  thee, 
As  thou  breakest  on  the  sea. 

When  thou  smilest  from  above, 
Is  the  sacred  hour  of  love ; — 
Absent  beauty's  worshipper 

Looks  to  thee,  and  thinks  of  her. 

jnc 

At  thine  approach,  the  vesper  hymn 
Peals  along  the  chapel  dim ; 


TO  THE  EVENING  STAR. 

. 

And  the  solemn  voice  of  pray'r 
Mingles  with  the  dewy  air. 

Beneath  thy  beams  the  .shepherds  slept, 
Or  their  watchful  vigils  kept, 
When  the  angels  brought  to  earth 
Tidings  of  a  Saviour's  birth. 

Star  of  eve !  thy  cheerful  rays 
Waken  thoughts  of  former  days, — 
Lead  our  minds  to  hopes  of  bliss, 
In  a  brighter  world  than  this. 

Thou  dost  seem  to  fancy's  eye, 
Throned  in  yonder  sapphire  sky, 
Like  a  home  of  endless  rest, 
For  the  spirits  of  the  blest. 

While  I  wander  through  the  gloom 
Which  surrounds  my  mortal  doom, 
Still,  sweet  vision,  shine  afar, 
Be  thou  still  my  guiding  star. 


West  Point,  Oct.,  1829. 


• 

A  SWISS  TALE.  89 


A  SWISS  TALE. 

Written  in  the  Album  of  a   very  young  Lady,  of  Swiss  descent,  since 
deceased. 

FAR  in  a  lovely  vale  away, 
Where  Switzerland's  blithe  shepherds  stray ; — 
Before  the  tyrant  Gessner  fell 
Beneath  the  sword  of  William  Tell ; — 
Within  a  green  and  shady  wood 
A  peasant's  cot  and  garden  stood. 
Beyond  it  was  a  lofty  mountain, 
Beside  it  was  a  crystal  fountain ; 
And  thence,  beside  the  garden  alley, 
A  stream  meander'd  through  the  valley. 
Along  its  banks  the  flocks  would  graze  ; 
And  oft  the  passing  stranger  gaze, 
To  see  the  shepherd  with  his  crook, 
Attend  the  sheep  beside  the  brook. 
It  was  a  shepherd  own'd  the  cot ; — 
In  truth  it  was  a  lovely  spot ; 
The  garden  was  bedeck'd  with  flow'rs ; 
The  vines  had  clamber'd  o'er  the  bow'rs ; — 
And  there,  beside  that  stream  of  water, 
Himself,  and  wife,  and  only  daughter 
Had  lived  contented  and  alone, 
By  all,  save  shepherd  friends,  unknown. 

Fair  Ellen  was  a  lovely  child, 
In  manners  sweet,  in  temper  mild 
In  conversation  always  gay, 
And  quick  her  parents  to  obey; 
8* 


90  A  SWISS  TALE. 

Her  conduct  was  by  all  approved, 
And  all  the  youth  who  saw  her  loved. 
Young  Henri  was  a  noble  youth, 
His  heart  was  disciplined  in  truth; 
His  courage  oft  had  been  the  theme 
Of  all  the  hamlets  on  the  stream. 
His  lather  lived  beneath  the  hill, 
His  flocks  were  pastured  by  the  rill, — 
And  Henri  oftentimes  would  roam 
To  spend  an  hour  at  Ellen's  home. 
Her  simple  song  and  artless  smile 
Would  oft  his  tedious  hours  beguile, 
Until  at  length,  in  maiden  pride, 
She  gave  her  vow  to  be  his  bride. 
It  was  a  glorious  day  of  spring, 
When  wood  and  vale  were  blossoming ; 
The  sun  was  shining  clear  and  bright, 
On  Mount  Bernhardin's  lofty  height ; 
Its  peak,  for  ever  white  with  snow, 
Like  burnish'd  silver  shone  below  : 
And  all  along  its  craggy  side 
The  lofty  glaciers,  steep  and  wide, 
Of  massive  ice  a  mighty  load, 
O'erhung  young  Henri's  fair  abode : — 
When  Henri,  sitting  by  his  sheep, 
Watching  Bernhardin's  dizzy  steep, 
Beheld. — oh  direful  was  the  day ! — 
Beheld  the  avalanche  give  way, 
Break  from  the  hill,  and  downward  dash, 
With  headlong  speed,  and  horrid  crash  ; 
And  taking,  with  resistless  force, 
His  father's  cottage  in  its  course, 
Crush  it  to  atoms,  and  amain 
Move  thundering  onward  o'er  the  plain ! 


A  SWISS  TALE.  91 

With  heart  distracted  at  the  view, 
Swift  tow'rd  his  cottage  Henri  flew ; 
He  found  his  father's  mangled  form, 
Bereft  of  life,  yet  bleeding — warm  ; 
His  only  brother  buried  deep 
Beneath  that  crush'd  and  ruin'd  heap. 
With  tears  of  anguish  Henri  gave, 
All  that  remain'd  to  give,  a  grave ; 
Then  slowly  turning  down  the  dell, 
To  Ellen  bade  a  wild  farewell ; 
And  fled  afar  to  seek  relief, 
Oblivion  of  his  speechless  grief. 

But  now  .the  tyrant  Gessner's  band 
Were  ravaging  fair  Switzerland  ; 
And  many  a  chief,  by  many  a  river, 
At  midnight  barb'd  the  teeming  quiver ; 
And  many  a  freeman  aimed  his  dart 
In  secret  at  the  tyrant's  heart. 
Young  Henri  sought  the  patriot  brave, 
"  And  rush'd  to  glory  or  the  grave." 
When  night  and  darkness  wrapt  the  sky 
And  torrents  fell,  and  winds  were  high, 
And  Boden  See's  wide  foaming  shore 
Echoed  the  billow's  fearful  roar, — 
The  patriot  heroes,  rushing  down, 
Regardless  of  the  tempest's  frown, 
Would  storm  the  unsuspecting  posts, 
Where  slept  the  tyrant's  fated  hosts, 
And  deadly  vengeance  dealt  the  blow 
Which  laid  the  hostile  cowards  low. 
Anon  there  came  a  direful  tale 
Of  threaten'd  crimes  in  Ellen's  vale  ; 
Of  Henri's  fame  and  Gessner's  wrath, 
Of  flames,  and  robbery,  and  death. 


92  A  SWISS  TALE. 

Swift  as  the  wind,  a  trusty  band, 
Marshall'd  at  Henri's  loved  command, 
Sped  over  mountain,  stream  and  fen, 
O'er  glacier  steep  and  rocky  glen, 
To  save  her  life,  or  share  the  lot 
Of  Ellen  and  her  father's  cot. 
They  reach'd  the  vale,  they  saw  afar 
The  raging  flames,  proclaiming  war ; 
They  heard  the  bell  toll  out  the  knell, 
While  echo  caught  the  solemn  swell, 
And  mingled  it  with  plaintive  cries, 
Which  rose  from  human  sacrifice! 

Young  Henri  saw,  and  spurr'd  his  steed ; — 
"  On,  soldiers,  on  !  speed,  horsemen,  speed  !" 
With  eyes  of  fire,  and  visage  fell, 
Which  flash'd  with  rage  unspeakable, 
With  buckler  raised  and  sabre  drawn, 
"  Speed,  horsemen,  speed  !  on,  soldiers,  on  ! 
Charge,  warriors,  charge  !"  then,  vaulting,  sprung 
The  tyrant's  thickest  ranks  among ! 
His  sabre  gleam'd,  and  right  and  left, 
On  every  side  a  passage  cleft ; 
The  cowards  quail'd  beneath  his  arm, 
Like  reeds  before  the  winter  storm ; 
His  trusty  warriors,  gather'd  round, 
Hew'd  down  the  ranks,  hemm'd  in  the  ground, 
Till  all  lay  bleeding  on  the  field, 
And  not  a  foe  was  left  to  yield. 
But  now  advancing  o'er  the  plain 
Was  heard  the  trumpet's  joyful  strain; 
And  notes  of  triumph  swell'd  the  gale, 
From  troops  advancing  through  the  vale. 
Loud  roll'd  the  drum,  the  banners  waved : 
"  Shepherds  rejoice !  your  land  is  saved, 


A  SWISS  TALE.  93 

The  days  of  anarchy  are  o'er, 
The  tyrant  welters  in  his  gore  ; 
Our  troops  disperse,  our  tumults  cease, 
Our  country  now  shall  rest  in  peace !" 

It  was  a  lovely  day  of  spring 
When  wood  and  vale  were  blossoming, 
And  birds  were  singing,  and  the  trees 
Yielded  their  perfume  to  the  breeze  ; 
And  all  the  shepherds  of  the  valley 
Were  ranged  beside  the  chapel  alley ; 
When,  arm  in  arm,  a  lovely  pair 
Pass'd  through  the  ranks  assembled  there, — 
And,  mid  the  joyful  festal  throng, 
With  solemn  pray'r,  and  sacred  song, 
Knelt  at  the  altar,  side  by  side  ; 
And  Ellen  was  brave  Henri's  bride. 

West  Point,  Oct.,  1829. 


94 


MORNING. 

"  Hues  of  the  rich  unfolding  morn, 
That,  ere  the  glorious  sun  be  born, 
By  some  soft  touch  invisible 
Around  his  path  are  taught  to  swell." 

KEBLE'S  CHRISTIAN  YEAR. 

MORN'S  orient  beams  appear,  and  one  by  one, 

The  weary  stars,  retiring  from  their  watch, 

Quench  their  bright  lamps,  and  dimly  sink  to  rest. 

Blushing  Aurora  hides  before  the  Sun, 

Who  yonder  comes,  upon  his  fiery  car, 

To  ride  his  daily  circuit  through  the  sky, 

Dispensing  to  the  nations  life  and  light. 

A  flood  of  glory  show'rs  upon  the  peaks 

Of  lofty  mountains  ;  bursts  upon  the  plains ; 

Tinges  with  burnish'd  gold  the  distant  clouds, 

That  seem  his  shady  canopy ;  and  lights 

His  pathway  up  the  heavens.     Nature  awakes 

From  drowsy  slumber,  active  and  refresh'd  ; 

And  air  and  earth  are  fill'd  with  animation. 

The  lowing  herd  disperse  upon  the  mead ; 

The  insect  myriads  murmur  forth  their  joy  ; 

And  thousand  songsters  warble  in  the  grove 

Their  notes  melodious.     A  brighter  green 

Enrobes  the  foliage,  glittering  with  dew, 

And  lightens  up  the  landscape.     Risen  with  the  sun, 

The  cheerful  ploughman  yokes  his  patient  team  ; 

And  while  the  fresh  turned  furrow  stripes  the  soil, 

Thinks  of  his  distant  harvest.     Loudest  now 

Rings  the  gay  anvil  with  redoubled  blows ; 


MORNING.  95 

Not  amid  gloom,  as  when  in  Etna's  caves 
The  giant  Cyclops  forged  the  living  thunder. 
How  glorious  thus  at  morn  to  walk  abroad, 
Inhaling  perfume,  breathing  the  fresh  air, 
Listening  to  melody  ;  while  all  around, 
We  view,  delighted,  nature's  lovely  works, 
In  mountain,  plain  or  stream,  in  earth  and  sky ! 
Still  more  delightful,  when  with  beauty's  self, 
Creation's  last,  and  best,  and  fairest  work, 
We  hold  sweet  converse  on  our  heedless  walk  ! 

West  Point,  Nov.,  1829. 


96  EVENING. 


EVENING. 

"Now  glow'd  the  firmament, 
With  living  sapphires;  Hesperus  that  led 
The  starry  host,  rode  brightest,  till  the  moon, 
Rising  in  clouded  majesty,  at  length 
Apparent  queen,  unveil'd  her  peerless  light, 
And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw." 

MILTON. 

'Tis  evening ;  and  the  sun  hath  sunk  to  rest, 

Mid  purple  clouds  descending ;  and  the  stars, 

Kindling  their  watchlights  from  his  blazing  tire, 

With  milder  radiance  fill  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 

Each  to  the  others,  in  responsive  notes, 

Singing  the  praises  of  their  great  Creator. 

Now  the  moon,  above  the  eastern  hill, 

Reveals  her  silver  chariot,  and  anon 

Climbs  up  the  empyrean  ;  tangled  oft 

With  fleecy  clouds ;  oft  bursting  into  view  ; 

In  mellow  beauty  still  she  speeds  her  way. 

How  soft  her  beams  glance  on  yon  distant  lake, — 

Save  where  the  falling  mist  obscures  its  face, 

And  curls  along  its  banks,  until  afar 

Its  shores  are  blended  in  the  shades  of  night. 

How  freshly  breathes  the  air  upon  the  cheek, 

Beneath  the  woodbines  of  the  trellis'd  bow'r, 

After  the  sultry  heat  of  summer's  day ; 

While  sweetest  flow'rs,  beneath  the  stilly  night, 

Yield  forth  their  perfume  !     Now  the  whippoorwill 

Wakens  the  echoes  in  their  viewless  caves, 

With  plaintive  music,  mournful  to  the  soul, 

But  sweet  as  memory  of  days  gone  by. 


97 


Hark !  hear  the  serenade's  enchanting  notes 

Steal  o'er  the  plain,  melodious  and  soft, 

And  slow  approaching,  swell  upon  the  ear. 

Now  they  burst  forth  harmonious  and  loud, 

In  lofty  chorus ;  viol  and  guitar, 

Soul-soothing  flute,  and  tuneful  flageolet, 

And  mortal  voice,  that  angels  well  might  deem 

Of  some  blest  spirit  uttering  notes  of  joy  ! 

List  to  the  symphony  !  that  dying  fall ! 

And  now  it  fades  away,  soft  and  more  soft, 

Sweet  and  more  sweet,  in  solemn  stillness  hush'd, 

Like  the  ^Eolian  harp,  when  suddenly 

The  breeze  departs  to  wake  its  chords  no  more. 

And  why  should  man  repine,  when  nature  thus 

Beams  often  bright  with  grandeur,  beauty,  bliss  ! 

West  Point,  Nov.,  1829. 


96  THE  CONJUROR'S  SONG. 

THE  CONJUROR'S  SONG. 

Sung  in  the  part  of  a  Conjuror,  at  a  Fancy  Ball. 

WHEN  dusky  night  obscures  the  sky, 

I  mount  my  magic  car ; 
And  over  the  moor  and  the  mountain  I  fly, 

To  chase  each  falling  star. 

And  I  take  invisible  forms, 

To  mount  above  the  ground, 
And  gather  the  lightnings  from  out  of  the  storms. 

While  the  thunder  rolls  around. 

I  delve  in  the  earth  and  dive  in  the  deep, 

Where  never  was  mortal  before ; 
The  tide  whirls  around,  and  the  mad  billows  leap, 

And  the  hurricanes  loudly  roar : 

The  stars  and  planets  retire, 

The  sun  sinks  under  the  main ; 
Volcanoes  break  out  with  their  torrents  of  fire. 

And  dread  earthquakes  heave  the  plain. 

Still  downward  afar  I  wend  my  way, 

Till  I  reach  my  magic  hall, 
Where  goblins,  and  witches,  and  elfins  gray, 

Attend  my  mighty  call : 

And  I  bind  them  down  with  the  spell, 

Of  the  mystic  symbols  ten  ; 
And  weave  the  enchantment  that  aids  me  to  tell 

The  hidden  fate  of  men. 


THE  CONJUROR'S  SONG.  99 

But  now  I'm  return'd  from  the  ends  of  the  earth, 

With  my  wand,  tiara,  and  all, — 
To  spend  a  few  moments  of  pleasure  and  mirth, 

And  attend  the  Fancy  Ball : — 

Till  my  wandering  star  shall  appear, 

And  the  midnight  bell  be  toll'd ; — 
Then  ladies  and  gentlemen  freely  draw  near, 

And  the  book  of  your  fates  unfold. 

West  Point,  Feb.,  1830. 


100  ELEGY. 


ELEGY. 

Ou  the  death  of  Miss  Catharine  Alcien  ;  youngest  daughter  of  Major 
R.  Alden,  a  much  respected  Officer  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  She  died 
at  West  Point,  Sept.  29,  1830 ;  aged  10  years,  10  months,  and  10  days. 

"  Elle  etait  de  ce  monde  ou  les  plus  belles  choses 

Ont  le  pire  destin  ; 
Et  rose,  elle  a  vecu  ce  que  vivent  les  roses, 

L'  espace  d'un  matin." 

MALHERBE. 

SHE  is  gone  from  her  home,  from  her  kindred  departed, 
To  the  dust  we  resign  her,  the  young  and  pure-hearted. 
The  form  that  we  loved,  and  the  hopes  that  we  cherish'd, 
Ere  yet  their  bright  morning  was  over,  have  perish'd  : 
No  more  to  her  friends,  in  this  sojourn  of  sorrow, 
Shall  the  sweet  voice  of  Catharine  e'er  welcome  the  mor- 


To  us  was  her  presence  a  fountain  of  sweetness, 
Her  mortal  existence  a  bright  dream  of  fleetness ; 
But  the  chain  that  had  bound  her  fair  spirit  is  broken, 
The  final  farewell  has  been  mournfully  spoken, 
And  long  shall  her  friends  for  her  absence  be  weeping, 
Who  now  in  yon  silent  green  valley  lies  sleeping. 

She  is  gone  to  her  rest,  to  her  kindred  departed, 

To  the  choirs  of  the  angels,  so  young  and  pure-hearted. 

The  Lord  hath  but  taken  the  gift  he  had  given, 

Too  lovely  for  earth,  hath  recall'd  it  to  heaven, 

And  the  blossom  now  pluck'd  from  the  arbor  in  sadness, 

Shall  there  bloom,  unfading,  in  beauty  and  gladness. 


101 


Then  weep,  ye  who  loved  her,  now  lone  and  forsaken, 
But  sveep  not  for  her  whom  her  Saviour  hath  taken, 
She  is  gone  ere  the  fragrance  of  childhood  was  blighted, 
Or  the  spirit's  pure  pathway  gro\vn  dim  and  benighted, 
And  soon  shall  ye  meet  her,  though  now  doom'd  to  sever, 
To  greet,  and  to  dwell  with  your  Catharine  for  ever. 

West  Point,  Sept.  30,  1830. 


102  TO  THE  MOON. 

TO  THE  MOON. 

Written  during  the  Annular  Eclipse  of  the  Sun,  Ft-h.  12,  1S:U. 

OH  thou  great  mistress  of  the  tides, 
Patron  of  thieves  and  homicides, 
Absent  by  night,  the  friend  of  bad  men, 
Present  by  night,  the  friend  of  mad  men, 
Who  talk  to  thee  of  love  and  glory, 
From  out  their  grated  dormitory ; — 
Thou  smiling  queen  of  silent  night, 
Array'd  in  robes  of  silver  white, 
I  have  a  message  for  thine  ear, 
Which  not  a  mortal  soul  may  hear ; 
Then  list  awhile,  and  hear  me  mention, 
A  few  things  well  worth  thine  attention. 

Thou  regulatest,  by  thy  motion, 
Besides  the  rising  of  the  ocean, 
The  time  to  pull  up  noxious  weeds, 
Plant  pumpkin  and  muskmelon  seeds, 
Set  hop-poles  and  cut  timber-trees, 
Stick  cranberry  beans  and  brush  young  peas, 
And  gather  herbs  of  healing  virtue, 
Which,  healing  not,  may  yet  not  hurt  you ; 
For  all  such  things  are  safest  done, 
Old  ladies  say,  by  time  of  moon. 

Thy  birth-day  monthly  is  repeated, 
Thy  course  of  life  as  oft  completed  ; 
Yet,  though  the  first  celestial  madam, 
As  old,  at  least,  as  father  Adam, 


TO  THE  MOON.  103 

Thou  hast  not  faded  nor  grown  colder, 
And  now  art  only  four  weeks  older. 

Some  say  that  thou  art  made  of  cheese, 
For  folks  say  anything  they  please  ;— 
If  so,  I'd  like  to  have  a  slice, 
To  bait  the  traps  to  catch  the  mice. 
But  other  folks,  who  build  their  faith  on 
The  word  of  great  Sanchoniathon, 
Contend  thou'rt  not  by  a  great  dragon-deal, 
As  large  as  any  common  wagon-wheel, 
And  quite  too  small  to  cut  a-slice  off, 
To  bait  the  traps  to  keep  the  mice  off. 
Philosophers,  with  much  suavity, 
Say  thou  hast  some  specific  gravity. 
But  I  am  certain,  dearest  moon, 
Thou'rt  light  as  any  air-balloon ; 
For  hadst  thou  gravity,  thou'd'st  fall, 
And  striking  headlong,  crush  us  all. 

Thou,  gentle  moon,  art  often  pray'd  to, 
By  many  a  youth,  and  many  a  maid  too ; 
And  thou  should'st  quickly  hear  their  pray'r, 
Lest  they  take  cold  in  evening  air. 
The  maiden,  from  her  latticed  arbor, 
Surveys  the  distant  ruffled  harbor, 
And  deeply  sighs,  as,  in  her  mind's  eye, 
Her  lover  sails  right  in  the  wind's  eye ; 
Thinking  her  hopes  would  all  be  blasted, 
If  he  should  tumble  from  the  mast-head  ; 
And  in  a  manner  so  improper, 
Make  some  lean  shark  a  hearty  supper ; — < 
Then  prays  to  thee  from  night  till  morn, 
That  speedily  he-  may  return. 


104  TO  THE  MOON. 

The  lover,  with  a  doleful  groan, 
Wanders  by  moonshine,  all  alone ; 
And  turning  to  the  moon  his  peepers, 
While  all  the  world  besides  are  sleepers, 
Sings  "  Tell  me,  moon,  and  tell  me  true, 
When  and  where  may  lover  woo  ]" 
Then,  void  of  hope,  all  measures  tried, 
Determined  upon  suicide ; 
Despairing  that  a  love  so  deathless 
Should  thus  be  lost  on  one  so  faithless, 
He  takes  his  musket,  loads  and  rams  it, 
With  powder  and  with  bog-grass  crams  it, 
Then  seeks  some  solitary  meadow, 
Takes  aim,  and  fires,  and  shoots — his  shadow. 

Dear  inoon,  thy  crescent  forms  a  model. 
In  many  an  oriental  noddle, 
For  castles,  towers,  and  minarets, 
Pictured  in  Arabic  gazettes  ; — 
Which,  though  they  seem  somewhat  grotesque, 
Are,  ne'ertheless,  quite  picturesque. 
Thou  floatest  on  the  Turkish  banner 
In  quite  a  proud  and  pompous  manner ; 
And  some  prefer  the  crescent's  horns, 
To  even  England's  unicorns. 

Thou  leadest  our  poor  world  a  jaunt  on, 
Like  a  mischievous  Jack-o'-Lantern, 
While  all  the  stars  of  heav'n's  vault  sing, 
As  thou  around  the  earth  art  waltzing, 
And  like  a  top  for  ever  twirling, 
Art  still  about  thy  axis  whirling ; — 
And  riding  on  vectores  radii, 
In  length  two  million  Roman  stadii, 


TO  THE  MOON.  105 

Dost  hide  the  stars  with  occultations, 
Giving  the  sailors  great  vexations. 

Where's  the  lost  Pleiad  1  canst  thou  tell  1 
Was  it  by  thee  obscured,  it  fell  1 
I  wish  when  thou  art  oft*  at  random, 
Around  the  zodiac  driving  tandem, 
Thou'd'st  take  some  notes  as  thou  dost  jog, 
And  make  a  stellar  catalogue, — 
With  notes  of  other  strange  phenomena, 
To  aid  the  science  of  astronomy. 

We'd  make  thee  our  official  messenger, 
To  tell  the  stars  of  all  that's  passing  here, 
And  bring  us  word  of  all  the  news, 
Each  time  that  thou  return'st  from  cruise. 
Tell  Sol  to  send  his  chariot  near  here, 
For  winter's  growing  rather  drear  here  ; 
And  half  a  dozen  of  his  rays 
Are  worth  a  deal  of  coal-fire  blaze. 
Tell  Mars  that  Poland  is  in  arms, 
And  Europe  fill'd  with  dire  alarms  ; 
Tell  him  to  send  the  Poles  some  bullets, 
To  tap  the  Russian  soldiers'  gullets. 
But  specially,  and  don't  forget  it, 
For  if  you  do  you  will  regret  it, — 
Tell  that  huge  comet  hither  sailing, 
Whenever  he's  in  reach  of  hailing, 
To  keep  at  a  respectful  distance, 
And  not  to  make  the  least  resistance. 
For  should  he  come,  like  battering-ram, 
To  get  a  knock  at  Uncle  Sam, — 
As  soon  as  e'er  he  comes  in  contact, 
He'll  violate  the  social  compact ; — 


106  TO  THE  MOON. 

Tacit,  'tis  true,  yet  understood 

By  all  the  stellar  brotherhood ; — 

That  comets  should,  in  all  their  dealings, 

Respect  a  planet's  rights  and  feelings, — 

And  not  usurp  his  old  abode, 

Nor  break  his  nose,  nor  stop  his  road. 

Now  what  I  have  to  add,  dear  moon, 
Is  short  and  sweet; — I'll  tell  it  soon. 
Without  a  jest,  and  far  from  joking, 
I  do  assure  you  'tis  provoking 
To  hear  of  an  eclipse, — believe  it, — 
Then  not  be  able  to  perceive  it. 
Now  this  is  certainly  admissible, 
That  half  the  eclipses  are  invisible, 
Because  of  rains  and  cloudy  weather, 
And  other  causes  put  together. 
You  know,  as  well  as  I,  of  yore,  folks 
Thought  it  was  wrong  to  stand  before  folks, 
And  flogg'd  their  children,  to  remind  them, 
When  men  were  by,  to  stand  behind  them. 
Then,  while  describing  your  ellipses, 
I  pray  you  to  avoid  eclipses; 
Or,  if  it  needs  must  be  that  one  pass, 
Turn  to  the  right  and  let  the  sun  pass. 

West  Print,  Feb.  IB,  1831. 


ISABELLE.  107 


ISABELLE. 

Suggested  by  the  tale  of  the  "  Broken  Heart,"  in  the  "  Diary  of  a 
late  Physician." 

THE  sun  had  set  upon  the  shore, 
Which  murmur'd  to  the  Hurlgate's  roar ; 
Where  thousand  pennons  floated  free, 
In  graceful  folds  above  the  sea ; 
Till  dusky  twilight's  sombre  hue 
Obscured  the  beauty  of  the  view. 
The  island  city's  busy  din, 
Where  late  the  noisy  crowd  had  been, 

Subsided  in  the  gloom  ; 
And  dark  without,  but  bright  within, 

Grew  many  a  happy  home. 
To  one  it  was  a  festal  night, 
Devoted  all  to  wild  delight, 
To  merriment  and  mirth ; 
Few  are  the  maids  that  may  compare 
With  her,  the  loved,  the  pure,  the  fair, 

Who  call'd  these  feelings  forth  ; 
And  many  bosom  friends  were  met, 
In  festival  to  celebrate 

The  evening  of  her  birth. 
A  massive,  crystal  chandelier, 
Illumed  with  lustre,  soft  and  clear, 
That  wide  and  splendid  hall, — 
Where  richly  glow'd  in  every  part 
The  painter's  skill,  the  sculptor's  art, 


108  ISABELLE. 

With  mirror  bright  and  wreath'd  festoon. 
Mingled  in  that  superb  saloon, 
And  hung  around  the  wall. 
The  board  is  set, — 
The  guests  are  met, — 
Joy  animates  the  throng ; 
And  beauty's  smiles, 
And  pleasure's  wiles 
The  varied  feast  prolong. 
With  flashes  bright, 
Of  dazzling  light, 
Beams  many  a  lovely  eye ; 
While  the  rosy  cheek, 
And  the  red  lip  speak 
Of  joyous  thoughts  and  high ; 
As  the  spirit  of  bliss, 
In  an  hour  like  this, 
Had  stolen  from  the  sky, 
To  revel  in  mirth, 
'Mid  the  sons  of  earth, 
And  the  minstrel's  melody. 
Their  hearts  are  warm'd  with  unwonted  glow, 
Their  feelings  are  fed  by  the  freshest  flow, 
And  were  it  thus  ever,  the  earth  might  be 
A  dwelling  meet  for  eternity. 

Now  fill  the  goblet  to  the  brim, — 

And  the  cup  with  rosy  wine, 
Till  the  cheek  be  sunk  and  the  eye  be  dim 
It  will  sweeten  life's  decline  : 
And  the  maidens  laugh, 
As  their  lovers  quaflf 
A  health  to  beauty's  shrine. 


ISABELLE.  109 

Bland  pleasure  waves  her  silken  crest, 

And  sounds  her  magic  shell ; 
Responsive  wakes,  in  every  guest, 

The  sympathetic  spell ; 
Each  brow  is  bright,  and  every  breast 

Throbs  with  ecstatic  swell ; 
Save  hers,  the  sweetest  and  the  best, 
The  gentle  mistress  of  the  feast, 

The  lovely  Isabelle. 
For  her  lover  has  rush'd  at  his  country's  call, 

His  country's  fame  to  save, 
He  has  left  his  home  and  his  father's  hall, 
To  preserve  from  the  angry  Lion's  thrall 

The  Eagle  of  the  brave. 
He  is  gone  to  the  West,  to  the  far  frontier, 

Unto  Erie's  stormy  shore. 
Where  the  warrior  at  midnight  starts  to  hear 

The  thundering  cannon's  roar ; 
And  the  shrieks  of  the  dying  pierce  the  ear, 

Till  they  sleep  to  wake  no  more. 
Young  Duncan  loved,  as  a  hero  may, 
With  a  fervent,  quenchless  love ; — for  they 

Who  are  true  to  their  country's  fame, 
Will  deepest  conceal,  but  will  warmest  feel 

The  love  but  one  may  claim. 
And  sad  was  the  hour  which  saw  him  depart, 

And  pronounce  the  last  farewell ; 
But  sadder  still  thenceforth  was  the  heart 
Of  the  gentle  Isabelle. 

And  now  she  sat  in  thoughtful  mood, 
As  if  in  pensiveness  to  brood 
O'er  some  impending  ill ; 
10 


110  ISABELLE. 

While  wit  and  mirth  the  tables  crown'd, 
And  merry  voices  rang  around, 

Where  she  alone  was  still ; 
And  oft  as  rose  the  peals  of  gladness, 
She  sank  in  more  absorbing  sadness. 

The  banquet  ceased,  but  more  refined, 
Remain'd  the  banquet  of  the  mind  ; 
While  love  and  friendship  strew'd  the  hours 
With  youthful  feeling's  choicest  flow'rs; 
Till  music's  notes  to  rapture  rung, 
And  passion  gazed  while  beauty  sung ; — 
Yet  still  a  deeper  sadness  fell 
Upon  the  breast  of  Isabelle. 
Her  friends  to  rally  her,  in  vain 
Call  forth  the  lyre's  enchanting  strain  ; — 
Though  each  in  turn  the  task  begin, 
With  soothing  notes  her  mind  to  win ; 
They  cannot  reach  the  train  of  thought, 
That  lies  too  deep  to  be  forgot. 
At  length  they  call  on  Isabelle 
To  sing  the  strains  they  love  so  well. 
With  many  a  kind  and  pressing  word, 
She  sits  beside  her  harpsichord  ; 
Then  solemnly  and  mournfully, 
Pours  forth  a  plaintive  symphony  ; — 
And  wild,  and  wailing,  as  the  grief 
To  which  no  time  can  bring  relief, — 
While  deep  excitement  swells  each  vein, 
Sings  sweetly  this  prophetic  strain.* 
"  He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 
He  is  lost  to  the  forest, 

*  The  Coronach  from  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake.' 


ISABELLE.  Ill 

Like  a  summer-dried  fountain, 

When  our  need  was  the  sorest ! 
The  font,  re-appearing, 

From  the  rain-drops  shall  borrow, 
But  to  us  comes  no  cheering, 

To  Duncan  no  morrow  ! 

"The  hand  of  the  reaper 

Takes  the  ears  that  are  hoary, 
But  the  voice  of  the  weeper 

Wails  manhood  in  glory. 
The  autumn  winds  rushing, 

Waft  the  leaves  that  are  searest, 
But  our  flow'r  was  in  flushing, 

When  blighting  was  nearest. 

"  Fleet  foot  on  the  correi, 

Sage  counsel  in  cumber, 
Red  hand  hi  the  foray, 

How  sound  is  thy  slumber ! 
Like  the  dew  on  the  mountain, 

Like  the  foam  on  the  river, 
Like  the  bubble  on  the  fountain, 

Thou'rt  gone  and  for  ever." 

She  paused,  and  now,  as  if  inspired, 
With  superhuman  visions  fired, 
A  solemn  prelude,  wild  and  vague, 
Announced  the  battle  piece  of  Prague. 
At  first  it  seems  with  hurried  speed, 
The  distant  troops  their  marches  lead ; 
While  echoing  clarions  swell  the  strain, 
That  leads  them  to  the  battle  plain. 


112  ISABELLE. 

Then  rings  the  trumpet's  call  to  arms, 
Then  beat  the  doubled  drum's  alarms; 
Then  rank  by  rank  the  squadrons  wheel, 
'Mid  cannon's  roar  and  musket's  peal ; 
Rush  on  to  the  charge,  till  they  break  and  retire, 
'Neath  sulphurous  clouds,  amid  flashing  fire, 
Where  the  fallen  wounded  with  groans  expire, 
While  the  awful  God  of  War  rides  thund'ring  in  his  ire ! 
Thus,  as  the  battle-song  progresses, 
With  vivid  touch  the  keys  she  presses  ; 
Wakes  the  deep  compass  of  the  notes, 
Like  thunder  from  the  cannon's  throats, 
And  strikes — hush,  hush,  she  stops,  she  cries 
"  Oh  mercy,  Heaven  !  my  Duncan  dies !" 
She  faints, — she  falls ! — haste  to  her  aid  ! — 
Bear  from  the  halls  the  sinking  maid ! — 
Bring  water !  perfume,  odors  rare  ! 
Open  the  casement  to  the  air ! 
Away  !  bring  in  the  healing  art !  .  .  .  . 
But  can  it  reach  the  wounded  heart  1  .  .  .  . 
Hush  !  heard  ye  not  that  boding  knell  1 
Oh  !  God  of  Heaven,  save  Isabelle  ! 

"  Pardon,  dear  friends,  our  broken  feast, 
A  kind  good  night  to  every  guest ; 
And  may  a  happier  morning  light 
Restore  the  pleasures  of  this  night" 

The  guests  are  departed,  the  hall  is  forlorn ; 
The  maiden  beloved  to  her  chamber  is  borne ; 
She  rests,  on  the  pillow  design'd  for  a  bride ; 
Her  kindred  are  gather'd  and  stand  by  her  side. 
"Awake,  Isabelle  !  'tis  your  mother  who  cries," 
And  feebly  and  slowly  she  opens  her  eyes, — 


ISABELLE.  113 

Looks  briefly  to  heav'n,  then  murmurs  with  pain, 
"  'Tis  sweet,  dearest  Duncan,  to  meet  you  again  ! 
Farewell,  my  dear  mother,  farewell !" — 'tis  the  last ; 
Her  soul  has  departed,  her  trials  are  past. 
Her  parents  are  weeping ;  she  sheds  not  a  tear  ; 
Loved  voices  are  calling  ;  but  she  does  not  hear. 
She  sleeps,  with  the  host  that  no  dream  shall  awaken, 
Till  the  tomb  shall  be  left  by  its  ashes  forsaken ; 
She  rests  from  life's  pilgrimage,  feels  not  its  sorrow  ; — 
Her  journey  is  over,  she  heeds  not  the  morrow. 

The  hyacinth  blossom  is  plucked  from  its  stem, 
The  casket  is  broken,  and  gone  is  the  gem ! 
Pale  Death,  the  grim  archer,  hath  bended  his  bow  ; 
The  arrow  hath  sped,  and  the  dove  is  brought  low  ! 
Oh !  fair  was  the  victim  thus  fated  to  bleed, 
And  well  might  the  spoiler  exult  in  his  deed  ! 

And  still  were  they  weeping  for  Isabelle, 
When  tidings  came  that  young  Duncan  fell 
In  the  battle's  front,  'mid  the  enemy's  gore, 
On  Niagara's  foam-clad,  star-lit  shore, — 
While  bearing  the  star-spangled  banner  on  high, 
And  raising  the  shout  of  victory  ! 

West  Point,  Feb.,  1831. 


10* 


114  COOPER8TOWN. 


COOPERSTOWN. 

In  remembrance  of  a  visit  to  Cooperstown,  and  Parly  on  the  Otsego 
Lake,  August  19, 1831. 

VALE  of  Otsego,  ever  dear, 

Bright  are  thy  scenes  to  fancy's  eye ; 
And  noble  bosoms  throb  sincere, 

Beneath  thy  mellow,  radiant  sky. 
Peace  to  thy  village  walks  and  spires  ; 

Peace  to  thy  waters  and  thy  shades  ;• 
Bliss  to  thy  matrons  and  thy  sires  y 

And  bliss  to  thy  unrivall'd  maids ! 

Bright  is  Geneva's  lake  of  blue ; 

Grand  is  Niagara's  awful  roar  ; 
Wild  is  the  Catskill's  rugged  view ; 

And  sweet  Lake  George's  placid  shore. 
But  bright,  and  grand,  and  wild,  and  sweet, 

Thy  lake  of  blue,  and  hills  of  green, 
Where  thousand  mingled  beauties  meet, 

To  shed  a  halo  o'er  the  scene. 

Nor  art  thou  doom'd  to  waste  unknown, 

Nor  fades  thy  loveliness  untold  ; 
For  he,  thou  claimest  as  thine  own, — 

High  on  the  list  of  fame  enroll'd, — 
Hath  pictured  in  the  glowing  page 

Each  scene  where  mem'ry  loves  to  dwell ; 
And  Gallic  youth,  and  German  sage, 

In  other  climes  thy  beauties  tell. 


COOPERSTOWN.  115 

They  stand  beside  the  precipice, 

And  mark  the  falling  of  the  deer ; 
They  linger  o'er  the  steep  abyss, 

And  tremble  for  the  Pioneer. 
They  rove  the  mansion's  lordly  halls, 

Where  every  object  brings  its  charm  ; 
Where,  ominous,  the  pictured  walls 

Display  Britannia's  sever'd  arm.* 

They  wander  through  the  pathless  wood, 

Where  spring  renews  her  leafy  bower, 
Where  Nature,  in  her  solitude, 

Exerts  her  wonder-working  power. 
They  view  her  now,  as  in  her  prime, 

She  sat  in  Eden's  calm  recess ; — 
Majestic,  simple  and  sublime, 

The  spirit  of  the  wilderness. 

They  leap  on  board  the  light  canoe, 

They  skim  across  the  crystal  lake, — 
With  not  a  breeze  the  deep  to  woo, 

With  not  a  ripple  in  their  wake ; 
Or  silent  spread  the  knotted  twine, 

At  evening;,  from  the  distant  strand ; 
Then,  gathering  in  the  fatal  line, 

Bring  countless  victims  to  the  land. 


*  This  alludes  to  the  papering  of  the  mansion  at  Cooperstowri,  as  de 
scribed  in  the  "Pioneers,"  which  the  writer  observed  to  compare  with 
the  description.  The  figure  of  the  papering  represents  Britannia,  per 
sonified  as  a  female  figure,  resting  upon  an  urn  ;  but  owing  to  a  fault  in 
the  pasting,  the  arm,  which  comes  on  a  separate  roll,  was  severed  from 
the  body. 


j* 

116  COOPERSTOWN. 

Thus  fancy's  wand,  the  magic  pen, 

Thy  forest  charms  hath  well  express'd ; 
And  mirror'd  thee,  as  thou  wast  then, 

The  model  of  the  rising  West. 
Hippy  the  author  who  can  claim 

A  vale  so  lovely  as  his  own ; 
Happy  the  village  that  can  name 

So  worthy  and  so  famed  a  son. 

And  thou  art  changed  ; — yet  sweetly  changed  ; 

In  thy  maturer  garb  array'd  ; 
More  bright,  more  fair,  but  not  estranged 

From  those  who  roam'd  thy  forest  glade. 
The  lofty  spires  and  cluster'd  town, 

The  meadows  wet  with  early  dew, 
Add  lustre  to  the  mountain's  brown, 

And  yield  the  wave  a  softer  hue. 

I  mark'd  thee  thus,  one  blissful  morn, 

When  summer  breath'd  its  balmy  sighs ; 
When  music's  cheerful  notes  were  borne 

In  echoes  to  the  shining  skies  ; 
When  gliding  o'er  the  ruffled  sea, 

Our  bark  pursued  its  rapid  way, 
And  maiden's  smile,  and  manhood's  glee, 

Gave  promise  of  that  happy  day. 

We  wander'd  through  the  verdant  bowers, 
We  listen'd  to  the  murmuring  rill, 

Or  on  the  lawn  bestrew 'd  with  flowers, 
We  met  to  dance  the  light  quadrille. 

We  row'd  beneath  the  pendant  grove, 
And  cast  abroad  the  tiny  hook  : 


COOFERSTOWN.  117 

While  many  &  lovely  angler  strove 
To  ensnare  the  rover  of  the  brook. 

We  gather'd,  in  the  sportive  ring, 

The  merry  sylvan  games  to  share ; 
We  cool'd  our  wine  beneath  the  spring, 

And  spread  our  rural  banquet  there. 
We  parted  when  the  moonbeam  shone 

Upon  the  water's  misty  breast ; 
When  twilight  music's  dying  tone 

Composed  the  willing  soul  to  rest. 

'Twas  thus,  as  poets  tell  the  tale, 

Arcadian  shepherds  pass'd  the  day; 
And  thus  in  Tempe's  rivall'd  vale, 

The  happy  moments  flew  away. 
And  mem'ry  oft  on  scenes  like  this 

Shall  bid  enraptured  fancy  dwell ; 
Or  whisper ;  waked  from  dreams  of  bliss ; 

Vale  of  Otsego,  fare  thee  well. 

Newport,  R.  L,  Nov.,  1831. 


118  TO  THE  PACKET  SHIP. 


TO  THE  PACKET  SHIP,    *    *    * 

"  Sic  te  Diva  potens  Cypri, 

Sic  fratrcs  Helena;,  lucida  sidora, 
Ventorumque  regat  pater, 

Obstrictis  aliis,  piwter  Japyga, 
Navis,  qua;  tibi  creditum 

Debes  Virgiliuni,  finibus  Atticis 
Reildas  incolumen,  precor; 
Et  serves  aiiinm.'  diniidium  meoe." 

HOR.  CARMINA. 

SPEED,  gallant  bark,  to  thy  home  o'er  the  wave  ! 
The  clouds  gather  dark,  and  the  mad  billows  rave ; — 
The  tempest  blows  o'er  thee,  and  scatters  the  spray, 
That  lies  in  thy  wake,  as  thou  wingest  thy  way. 

Speed,  gallant  bark,  to  the  land  of  the  free, 
The  home  of  the  happy,  beyond  the  wide  sea ! 
Dear  friends  and  near  kindred,  the  lovely  and  fair, 
Are  waiting,  impatient,  to  welcome  thee  there  ! 

Speed,  gallant  bark !  there's  a  seat  at  the  board, 
Which  the  dame  and  the  damsel  reserve  for  their  lord  ; 
And  the  fond-hearted  maiden  is  sighing  in  vain, 
To  welcome  her  long-absent  lover  again. 

Speed,  gallant  bark !  richer  cargo  is  thine, 
Than  Brazilian  gem,  or  Peruvian  mine ; 
And  the  treasures  thou  bearest,  thy  destiny  wait ; 
For  they,  if  thou  perish,  must  share  in  thy  fate. 

Speed,  gallant  bark !  though  the  land  is  afar, 

And  the  storm-clouds  above  thee  have  veil'd  every  star : 


TO  THE  PACKET  SHIP.  119 

The  needle  shall  guide  thee,  the  helm  shall  direct, 
And  the  God  of  the  tempest  thy  pathway  protect ! 

Speed,  gallant  bark,  though  the  lightning  may  flash ; 
And  over  thy  deck  the  huge  surges  may  dash ; — 
Thy  sails  are  all  reef 'd,  and  thy  streamers  are  high ; 
Unheeded  and  harmless  the  billows  roll  by  ! 

Speed,  gallant  bark  !  the  tornado  is  past ; 
Staunch  and  secure  thou  has  weather'd  the  blast ; 
Now  spread  thy  full  sails  to  the  wings  of  the  morn, 
And  soon  the  glad  harbor  shall  greet  thy  return ! 

Newport,  R.  L,  Nov.,  1831. 


120  THE  GENIUS  OF  ROMANCE. 


THE  GENIUS  OF  ROMANCE. 

The  object  of  this  composition  was  to  describe  the  different  classes  of 
Romances  which  have  appeared  in  our  language.  "  Parismus  and  Pari«- 
menus,"  "  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho."  "The  Three  Spaniards,"  "The 
Children  of  the  Abbey,"  and  "  Tom  Jones,"  are  particularly  alluded  to  : 
as  forming  a  series  gradually  leaving  the  supernatural,  and  approaching 
the  realities  of  life;  and  the  concluding  stanzas  allude  to  the  Novels  of 
Scott,  Bulwer,  and  Cooper. 

HAVE  you  seen  the  wight,  as  you  may  perchance. 

Ycleped  the  Genius  of  Romance  ? 

He  has  travell'd  every  inch  of  ground, 

In  the  whole  of  merry  England  round ; 

Has  been  to  Italy,  France,  and  Spain, 

And  was  very  glad  to  return  again ; 

Till  at  length  he  took  a  notion  to  come 

And  see  brother  Jonathan's  notions  at  home. 

He  considers  the  world  as  a  masquerade, 
Where  all  kinds  of  tricks  may  be  lawfully  play'd  : 
And  many  a  mask  he  has  donn'd  and  tried, 
But  his  changeable  phiz  he  could  never  hide. 
Of  mystery,  scheming,  and  sentiment,  full, 
He  has  long  been  a  favorite  of  old  Johnny  Bull, 
And  the  very  worst  scrape  in  which  ever  he  got. 
He  was  glad  to  get  out  of  by  paying  his  Scott. 

A  giant  of  old,  in  some  castle  vast, 
Far  off,  in  a  forest  or  desert  waste, 


THE  GENIUS  OF  ROMANCE.  121 

He  would  rouse  some  knight,  with  enchanted  horn, 

To  rue  the  day  that  he  ever  was  born  : 

For  a  blow  of  the  giant's  ponderous  mace 

Would  fell  the  knight  errant  flat  on  his  face  ; 

And  a  fiery  dragon  winged  for  flight 

Bear  the  shrieking  damsel  away  from  sight. 

Next  he  came  as  a  goblin  grim, 

When  the  castle-halls  at  eve  grew  dim  ; 

And  many  a  scream  or  dismal  groan, 

At  midnight  he  utter'd  from  dungeon  lone ; 

Or  a  pale  sad  spectre  robed  in  white, 

From  a  gloomy  niche  he  would  rise  upright ; 

While  the  lamps  burnt  dim  with  a  spectral  hue, 

And  the  warder  totter'd  aghast  at  the  view. 

Then  forth  he  stalk'd  with  a  murderer's  scowl, 

Disguised  and  muffled  in  cassock  and  cowl ; 

He  knew  a  false  pannel  that  softly  might  slide, 

He  drew  his  dagger  and  push'd  it  aside, 

He  enter'd  the  chamber,  and  warily  crept 

To  the  side  of  the  bed  where  the  innocent  slept ; 

He  drew  the  curtain  that  shelter'd  his  guest, 

And  plunged  the  sharp  dagger  full  deep  in  his  breast. 

Anon  he  appear'd  as  an  orphan  maid, 
In  beauty's  purity  all  array'd  ; 
By  some  true  lover  faithfully  woo'd, 
By  lawless  passion  madly  pursued ; 
Oppress'd  by  want  and  the  tempter's  power, 
With  naught  but  virtue  for  shield  and  dower ; 
11 


122  THE  GENIUS  OF  ROMANCE. 

Till  Heaven,  propitious  to  her  distress, 
Restored  her  to  love  and  happiness. 

Again,  he  sprung  up,  as  a  random  shoot, 
A  generous  scion  from  noble  root, 
With  faults  and  foibles  like  other  youth, 
But  his  heart  the  fountain  and  mirror  of  truth. 
Who  loved  and  suffer'd,  repented  and  err'd, 
Still  by  his  mistress  excused  and  preferr'd, 
Till  at  length,  succeeding  to  title  and  land, 
The  friends  of  the  maiden  concede  him  her  hand. 

And  now  he  came  mask'd  as  the  Great  Unknown, 
In  a  thousand  shapes  that  were  all  his  own ; 
Now  as  the  Temple's  proudest  knight, 
Rushing  forth  to  the  panoplied  fight ; 
As  the  chieftain  now  that  is  true  in  death, 
To  his  king  and  clan,  to  his  friends  and  faith ; 
Or  the  haughtiest  noble  that  bends  the  knee 
To  the  brightest  of  England's  royalty. 

Risen  again,  he  appear'd  to  view, 
In  many  a  mask  of  a  sombre  hue ; 
Haunting  the  market,  fair,  or  race ; 
Sallying  forth  from  his  hiding-place ; — 
By  evil  example  led  astray, 
A  gentleman  styled  on  the  king's  highway  ; 
Disown'd  and  neglected  by  kin  and  kind, 
His  home  and  companions  he  soon  left  behind. 

At  length  he  roved  in  the  Western  wild, 
In  dress  and  simplicity  Nature's  child  ; 


THE  GENIUS  OF  ROMANCE.  123 

O'er  verdant  prairie  or  mountain  brown, 
Far  from  the  hum  of  the  busy  town ; 
Till  he  heard  the  woodman's  axe  resound 
In  the  midst  of  the  Indian's  hunting-ground, 
Then  bent  his  way  to  a  wilder  sod, 
Where  the  white  man's  foot  had  never  trod. 

Newport,  April  6, 1832. 


t 

liJ4  THE  LAST  PRAYER  OF  QUEEN  MARY. 


THE  LAST  PRAYER  OF  QUEEN  MARY. 

"  O  DOMINE  DEUS  !  speravi  in  te ; 

0  care  mi  Jesu,  nunc  libera  me  : — 

In  dura  catena, 
In  misera  pcena, 

Desidero  te, — 
Languendo,  gemendo, 
Et  genuflectcndo, 
Adoro,  imploro  ut  liberes  me." 

TRANSLATION. 

Oh  Lord,  my  God,  I  have  trusted  in  thee  ! 
Oh  thou  dearest  Jesus,  now  liberate  me ! 

In  rigorous  chains, 

In  misery's  pains, 

My  desire  is  for  thee  ; 

While  languidly  kneeling, 

In  sorrow's  deep  feeling, 

1  adore,  I  implore  thee  to  liberate  me, 

Newport,  R.  I.,  Oct.,  1832. 


A  BROTHER'S  MEMENTO.  125 


A  BROTHER'S  MEMENTO. 

Written  in  an  Album. 

MY  SISTER, 

Accept  the  minstrel's  token, 

And  preserve  his  feeble  lay, 
When  the  last  fond  word  is  spoken, 

And  thy  brother  far  away. 
While  life  and  strength  are  left  him, 

And  wherever  be  his  lot, 
Till  memory  is  bereft  him 

Thou  shalt  never  be  forgot. 
When  hope's  bright  torch  is  lighted, 

With  devotion  from  on  high, 
Or  thy  fairest  prospects  blighted, 

Under  sorrow's  frowning  sky ; 
Whatever  fate  befall  thee, 

Whatever  ills  portend, 
Whatever  fears  appal  thee, 

Thou  hast  still  in  him  a  friend. 
He  leaves  thee, — not  in  sorrow; 

Departs, — but  not  with  pain ; 
For  hope  points  out  the  morrow, 

When  we  shall  meet  again  : 
And  still  on  God  relying, 

Our  minds  may  always  rest, 
That  in  living  or  in  dying, 

His  children  shall  be  blest. 
11* 


126  A  BROTHER'S  MEMENTO. 

Then  hear  his  words  of  kindness 

And  list  to  wisdom's  voice ; 
Waken'd  from  nature's  blindness, 

Pursue  thy  happy  choice : 
Oh  !  better  far  to  languish, 

And  throw  earthly  hopes  aside, 
Than  wake  to  future  anguish, 

In  perdition's  endless  tide ! 
Then  court  not  present  pleasure, 

But  duty's  calls  obey, 
And  gather  up  thy  treasure 

Where  it  never  can  decay : 
Like  the  pure  blue  stream  that  meets  thee, 

May  thy  holy  feelings  flow  ; 
Like  the  bright  green  vale  that  greets  thee, 

Be  thy  love  to  all  below. 
Seek  first  the  bliss  of  heaven, 

Thy  earthly  cares  resign ; 
And  all  things  shall  be  given 

To  the  heir  of  grace  divine. 
Then  fear  not  fortune's  arrow, 

But  place  in  Him  thy  trust, 
Who  seeth  not  e'en  the  sparrow 

Fall  unnoticed  to  the  dust. 
In  the  gift  of  His  affection, 

May  thy  love  to  Him  increase; 
And  beneath  His  kind  protection, 

Mayst  thou  live  a  life  of  peace  ; 
And  of  all  his  laws  observant, 

Mayst  thou  hear  the  joyful  word, 
"  Welcome,  thou  faithful  servant, 

To  the  bosom  of  thy  Lord  1" 

Burlington,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  6, 1832. 


THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS.  127 


THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS. 

Written  for  the  "Freeman's  Journal,"  Cooperstown,  N.  Y.,  at  the  re 
quest  of  its  esteemed  Editor. 

To  you,  kind  Patrons,  on  this  festal  day, 
The  humble  news-boy  brings  his  duteous  lay. 
With  gratitude  the  Arab  wish  he  bears, 
That  each  of  you  may  "  live  a  thousand  years  ;" 
And  every  one  be  past  in  constant  bliss, 
In  unalloy'd,  increasing  happiness  ; 
Hoping  that  he  himself  may  live  as  long, 
Each  new  year's  day  to  greet  you  with  his  song. 

With  unabating  speed,  the  unwearied  sun 
Another  circuit  in  the  heavens  has  run; 
And  now  soft  breezes,  to  the  waking  ear, 
Announce  the  advent  of  the  glad  new  year. 

And,  as  the  traveller  on  the  mountain's  brow, 
Ling'ring,  looks  back  upon  the  vale  below ; 
Marks  each  bright  landscape,  each  enchanting  spot 
Of  groves  and  streamlets,  left,  but  not  forgot ; — 
Or  forward  turns,  to  seek  with  anxious  glance, 
What  scenes  will  meet  him  as  his  steps  advance ; — 
So  would  we  pause,  with  retrospective  thought 
Of  each  event  time's  rapid  course  hath  brought ; 
So  mark  the  sunny  hours  for  ever  fled, 
So  weep  for  friendship  wither'd  with  the  dead ; — 
Wither'd,  not  blasted  ; — winter'd  in  the  tomb, 
To  spring,  hereafter,  in  immortal  bloom ; — 


128  THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS. 

So  would  we  strive,  by  reason's  feeble  light, 
To  pierce  the  future,  with  prophetic  sight ; 
So  choose  our  path,  that  life's  brief  journey  past, 
We  all  may  reach  one  happy  goal  at  last. 

Turn  we  then  first  to  Europe's  high  career, 
And  mark  her  progress  through  the  closing  year. 

Alas  for  Poland  !  prostrate  in  the  dust, 
She  long  bewail'd  her  spoiler's  broken  trust ; 
Till  roused  to  action  by  her  deep-felt  wo, 
She  turn'd  and  grappled  with  her  faithless  foe ; 
Pour'd  out  her  life-blood  on  the  battle-plain, 
And  struggled  bravely  till  the  task  was  vain  ; — 
Then  overpower'd,  beneath  the  tyrant's  grasp, 
Yielded  her  freedom  with  her  dying  gasp ! 
Ye  who  have  wept  o'er  Kosciusko's  bier, — 
For  his  lost  country  shed  one  kindly  tear ! 
Mourn,  sons  of  freedom,  for  her  fallen  brave ! 
Others  she  help'd,  herself  she  could  not  save. 

Where  late  the  lily  only  bloom'd  to  fade, 
See  the  tri-color'd  banner  now  display'd ; 
A  tyrant  banish'd  by  a  nation's  voice, 
A  monarch  ruling  by  the  people's  choice ; 
NVhere  nature's  rights  are  better  understood, 
And  pow'r  employ'd  to  advance  the  public  good. 

Now  Britain  feels  the  soul-inspiring  flame, 
And  wakes,  resolved  her  dormant  rights  to  claim 
Demands  her  Commons  for  the  people's  own, 
A  barrier  'gainst  the  aristarchal  throne. 
Britain  !  in  arts  as  well  as  arms  the  first : 
The  home  in  which  our  ancestors  were  nursed  ; 
What  generous  bosom  does  not  welcome  thee, 
Of  lands  afar  the  foremost  of  the  free  ! 


THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS.  129 

While  France  and  England  aid  the  people's  cause, 
And  advocate  the  reign  of  equal  laws, — 
Though  Russia  growl,  and  Holland's  monarch  frown, 
And  Pedro  strive  for  Lusitania's  crown, — 
Though  all  the  hosts  of  tyranny  assail, 
The  cause  of  truth  and  freedom  shall  prevail. 

And  though  the  torch  of  war  in  future  days 
Should  kindle  Europe  in  a  general  blaze ; — 
Though  armies  to  the  battle-thunder  rush, 
And  legions  fall,  and  blood  in  torrents  gush  ; 
Our  country,  like  a  rock,  shall  stand  unmoved, 
By  all  respected,  and  by  all  beloved. 
For  true  to  justice,  to  our  honor  true, 
To  every  nation  rendering  its  due, 
Unpledged,  impartial,  liberal  and  sincere, 
Who  shall  molest  1  or  what  have  we  to  fear  ? 

Shall  hellish  discord  raise  his  fiery  crest, 
And  pour  his  venom  in  his  country's  breast1? 
Shall  the  weak  limbs,  complaining  of  their  share, 
Refuse  the  body's  easy  load  to  bear  ? 
Withhold  all  sustenance  till  strength  is  gone  ? 
Then  find,  too  late,  their  strength  was  all  its  own  ? 
But  see,  with  justice  arm'd  and  clothed  in  might, 
The  Hero  comes  to  enforce  his  country's  right ; 
Call'd  by  her  grateful  voice  to  guard  her  fate, 
To  take  the  helm  and  guide  the  ship  of  state, 
His  word  prophetic  makes  the  promise  sure, 
"  The  Union  must,  the  Union  shall  endure." 
And  now  with  reason's  clearest,  calmest  ray, 
He  comes  to  show  the  wanderers  their  way ; 
By  mild  persuasion  strives  their  minds  to  draw, 
To  see  their  duty  and  obey  the  law  ; 


130  THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS. 

Or  else  in  justice's  panoply  array'd, 
He  marches  forth  to  draw  the  battle-blade, 
To  arrest  their  course,  to  stay  disunion's  flood, 
And  quell  the  treason  at  the  price  of  blood. 

What  hosts  of  mortals  with  the  year  now  fled, 
Have  tenanted  the  chambers  of  the  dead ! 
No  more  alone  'mid  Egypt's  catacombs 
Champollion,  seeking  hieroglyphics,  roams; 
Nor  Cuvier  shall  nature's  depths  explore, 
Nor  Goethe  sing  with  swan-like  sweetness  more ; — 
Nor  young  Napoleon,  emulous  of  fame, 
Make  princes  tremble  at  his  mighty  name! 

How  deeply  manhood  sleeps  beneath  the  sod, 
Which  yesterday  its  buoyant  footsteps  trod ! 
How  many  a  maiden,  clothed  in  beauty's  bloom, 
Lies  cold  and  voiceless  in  the  silent  tomb ! 
For  lo !  with  venom'd  wing  and  breath  of  flame, 
From  Eastern  climes  the  fell  destroyer  came : 
Fear  went  before  him,  messenger  of  wrath, 
Death  stalk'd  beside  him, — terror  mark'd  his  path  :— 
Loaded  with  spoils  he  pass'd,  and  left  his  urn, — 
Grant  Heaven,  in  mercy,  never  to  return  ! 

But  you,  dear  patrons,  have  escaped  his  fang, 
You  have  not  felt  for  friends  the  parting  pang  ; 
You  have  enjoy'd  the  luxury  of  health, 
Improved  in  knowledge,  and  increased  in  wealth ; 
Your  thriving  village  stands,  by  all  confess'd, 
Fairest  amid  the  fair  ones  of  the  West. 
Your  barns  and  granaries  are  fill'd  with  grain, 
Your  flocks  and  herds  enliven  all  the  plain ; 
Your  children  smile  the  whiter  hours  away  ; 
And  their  improvement  crowns  the  well-spent  day. 


THE  CARRIER'S  ADDRESS.  131 

Then,  as  with  thankful  hearts  you  sit  beside 
Your  happy  hearth,  at  sober  eventide, 
When  you  pour  forth  an  offering  of  praise 
To  Him  who  thus  with  plenty  crowns  your  days, 
While  bleak  winds  whistle  o'er  the  snow-clad  moor, 
Oh !  think  with  pity  on  the  helpless  poor ; 
In  charity  extend  your  kind  relief, 
Prevent  their  suffering  and  soothe  their  grief. 

For  you,  fair  maidens,  brighter  than  the  morn, 
Whom  every  virtue,  every  grace  adorn, 
What  tribute  can  the  humble  news-boy  bring 
Worthy  to  be  a  New  Year's  offering  1 
Would  new  year's  day  but  wait  for  April  flow'rs, 
He'd  twine  you  garlands  from  the  sweetest  bow'rs  ; 
Or  did  our  streams  Golconda's  diamonds  share, 
He'd  deck  the  wreaths  with  jewels  for  your  hair ; 
Or  could  the  falling  stars  be  found  in  space, 
The  brightest  ones  should  fill  the  diamond's  place  ; 
Or  could  the  rainbow,  with  its  tints  so  varied, 
Be  folded  up  and  in  a  band-box  carried, 
He  certainly  would  send  for  one  express, 
To  make  you  all  a  handsome  new-year's  dress ; 
But  seeing  Fate  has  otherwise  decreed, 
He  hopes  you'll  take  the  intention  for  the  deed ; 
And  since  his  gift  to  wishes  is  confined, 
He  hopes  you'll  meet  with  husbands  to  your  mind  ; 
That  you,  young  gentlemen,  may  pass  your  lives, 
With  prudent,  loving,  amiable  wives; — 
In  short,  he  wishes,  gentle  patrons  dear, 
Always,  to  all  of  you,  a  happy  year. 

Newport,  R.  L,  Dec.  19,  1832. 


132  THE  ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 


THE  ACKNOWLEDGMENT. 


On  the  receipt  of  a  seal ;  a  tearing  eagle,  with  the  motto  — 

"  His  wine  on  the  wind,  and  his  eye  on  the  sun. 
He  swerves  not  a  hair,  but  bears  onward,  right  on  : 
So  may  the  eagle's  flight  ever  be  thine, 
Onward  and  upward,  and  true  to  the  line  " 


LADY,  not  to  me  are  given 
Firmness,  constancy,  and  power, 

On  the  eagle's  pinions  driven, 
Sunward  from  the  earth  to  tower. 

Boding  cares  and  fears  oppress  me, 
Viewless  bonds  my  feelings  chain ; 

Anxious  dreams  and  hopes  possess  me, 
Dreams  and  hopes  perhaps  in  vain. 

Mine  is  transient  joy,  that  borrows 
All  the  light  it  would  bestow  ; 

But  my  deep,  though  silent  sorrows, 
Be  it  never  thine  to  know. 

When  the  mist  so  drear  and  lonely, 
Shall  have  vanish'd  from  my  brow  ; 

Lady,  then,  alas  !  then  only, 
Mayst  thou  read  my  feelings  now. 


THE  ACKNOWLEDGMENT.  133 

Happiness  through  life  betide  thee, 

May  thy  sun  unclouded  shine ; 
With  a  light  serene  to  guide  thee, 

May  that  lofty  sphere  be  thine  ! 

Neivport,  Feb.  2,  1833. 


12 


134  INVOCATION. 


INVOCATION. 

'  As  a  beam  on  the  face  of  the  waters  may  glow. 
While  the  tide  runs  in  darkness  and  coldness  below ; 
So  the  cheek  may  be  tinged  with  a  warm  sunny  smile. 
While  the  cold  heart  runs  darkly  to  ruin,  the  while." 

MOORE 

THE  winter  inoon  is  beaming 

From  her  clouded  throne  on  high, 
The  stars  are  dimly  gleaming 

From  the  borders  of  the  sky, 
While  wand'ring  on  the  lonely  beach, 

I  list  the  ocean's  roar, 
And  mark  the  crested  billows  reach 

The  far  extended  shore  ; 
Or  watch  the  dim  discover'd  sail 

Beyond  the  breaker's  foam, 
The  laden  ship  with  prosp'rous  gale, 

Advancing  to  her  home: — 
Joyful  as  she  the  land  espies, 

And  speeds  along  the  sea, 
So  joyfully  my  spirit  flies, 

To  seek  its  rest  with  thee. 

I  mingle  in  the  giddy  dance, 
Where  love  proclaims  its  pow'r, 

And  gaze  on  beauty's  witching  glance, 
In  that  attractive  hour ; 

Soft  voices  warble  in  my  ear, 
While  lovely  forms  are  nigh ; 


INVOCATION.  i        135 

And  sunny  smiles  that  well  might  cheer 

And  win  the  coldest  eye  ; 
Yet,  when  I  mingle  with  the  bright, 

The  gay,  and  beauteous  throng, 
Thy  form  is  ever  in  my  sight, 

Thy  name  upon  my  tongue : — 
My  listless  eyes  undazzled  rove, 

My  heart  is  fancy  free  ; 
It  only  feels  the  throb  of  love, 

Whene'er  it  beats  for  thee. 

They  say  that  I  am  heartless, 

And  know  not  how  to  feel ; 
Because  I  would  be  artless, 

Yet  deepest  love  conceal : 
I  cannot  talk  of  flames  and  darts, — 

Make  love  a  transient  theme, — 
Nor  trifle  with  deserving  hearts, 

That  claim  my  high  esteem. 
Their  noble  worth  each  passing  day 

In  brighter  lustre  shows, 
And  gladly  would  this  heart  repay 

The  gratitude  it  owes ; — 
But  though  mine  eye  returns  a  smile, 

When  others  smile  to  me, 
My  bosom  fondly  burns  the  while, 

With  constant  love  to  thee. 

Thy  cherish'd  image  charms  me  now, 

As  when  at  first  we  met ; 
And  that  warm  smile  upon  thy  brow, 

I  never  shall  forget : — 


136  INVOCATION. 

It  mirrors  forth  thy  gentle  mind, 

Thy  feelings  pure  and  high, 
Within  the  loveliest  form  enshrined, 

That  blesses  human  eye  : — 
That  form,  so  bright  and  beautiful, 

Seems  given  from  above  ; 
That  heart,  so  warm  and  dutiful, 

Inspires  my  fervent  love ; 
And  nightly,  as  I  humbly  bend 

To  Heav'n  the  willing  knee, 
I  pray  that  blessings  may  descend 

On  thine,  my  love,  and  thee. 

Then  bid  me  not  depart  and  weep, 

In  solitude  and  gloom, 
O'er  cherish'd  hopes  and  feelings  deep, 

All  blighted  in  their  bloom : 
Oh  !  leave  me  not  in  loneliness, 

Thy  coldness  to  deplore  ; 
Mourning  the  wreck  of  happiness, 

Thou  only  could'st  restore  ; 
But  fix  my  fond  selection, 

And  make  me  wholly  thine ; 
And  bless  my  warm  affection, 

With  love  as  deep  as  mine  ; — 
So  gently  shall  the  current  flow, 

Of  life's  uncertain  sea  ; 
And  constantly,  in  weal  or  wo, 

My  heart  shall  be  with  thee  ! 


THE  8CN  HAS  SET.  137 

THE  SUN  HAS  SET. 

Impromptu,  in  remembrance  of  a  sailing  party. 

THE  sun  has  set,  the  sky  is  clear, 

The  breeze  is  gently  blowing  : 
The  light  waves  ripple  on  the  ear, 

The  boatmen  all  are  rowing; 
The  landscape  still  is  bright  and  fair ; 

The  ocean  lies  before  us ; 
The  light-house  lamp  and  evening  star 

Are  gently  beaming  o'er  us. 

And  vocal  music,  sweet  and  soft, 

Is  on  the  surges  dancing ; 
In  mournful  strains  indulging  oft, 

And  oft  with  joy  advancing ; 
Oh  !  who  would  change  a  scene  like  this, 

So  pensive  and  so  holy, 
For  transient  scenes  of  heartless  bliss, 

Or  thoughtless  hours  of  folly  ! 

Newport,  June  27,  1833. 

12* 


138  THE  PARTING. 


THE  PARTING. 

THE  twilight  sky  is  glowing, 

Across  the  summer  sea  ; — 
The  balmy  breeze  is  blowing ; 

But  its  breath  is  not  for  me ; — 
For  when  the  morning  rises, 

While  others  greet  the  day, 
From  all  this  spirit  prizes, 

Shall  I  have  pass'd  away. 

My  soul,  suppress  thy  sorrow ! 

My  wandering  heart  be  still ! 
Thy  consolation  borrow 

From  thy  Maker's  holy  will ! 
Let  not  thy  footsteps  falter, 

'Mid  darkness  and  despair  ; 
But  kneeling  at  his  altar, 

Seek  light  and  comfort  there. 

With  gratitude  and  meekness 

Address  the  Heav'nly  throne, 
Acknowledging  thy  weakness, 

Trusting  in  God  alone ; — 
Thy  crimes  and  faults  confessing, 

Implore  his  pardoning  grace, 
And  ask  the  Saviour's  blessing, 

On  all  thy  fallen  race. 


THE  PARTING.  139 

Pray  for  the  carnal-minded, 

That  thirst  for  fame  and  gol5 ; 
The  spiritually  blinded, 

The  thoughtless  and  the  cold  ; 
Pray  for  the  sad  and  sighing, 

That  Heav'n  may  soothe  their  woes, 
Pray  that  the  sick  and  dying 

From  thence  may  find  repose. 

Pray  for  the  friends  thou  lovest, 

For  all  thou  boldest  dear, 
Though  far  from  them  thou  revest 

While  fresh  the  parting  tear ; 
That  whether  joy  or  mourning, 

Through  life  may  be  their  doom, 
Their  lamps  all  trimm'd  and  burning, 

May  shine  beyond  the  tomb. 

Friends  of  my  choice,  we  sever! — 

But  though  sorrow  dimm'd  its  fire  ; 
Within  this  bosom  never 

Shall  friendship's  flame  expire  !-— 
Ye  venerable  towers, 

Fast  fading  from  my  view ; 
Ye  island-vales  and  bowers, — 

Home  of  my  heart — adieu  ! 


Boston,  July  24,  1833. 


140  LUTZOW'S  WILD  CHASE. 


LUTZOW'S  WILD  CHASE. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  KORNER. 

This  name  was  given,  during  the  war  of  1813  and  1814,  to  a  Prussian 
corps  of  volunteers,  commanded  by  Major  Liitzow,  and  composed  ol 
young  gentlemen  of  the  highest  talents  and  patriotism.  The  poet 
Korner  was  a  member  of  this  corps,  and  has  celebrated  it  in  this  song. 
which  is  to  the  Germans  what  the  Marseilles  Hymn  is  to  the  French,  or 
Hail  Columbia  to  the  patriot  of  America. 

WHAT  gleams  from  yon  wood  in  the  splendor  of  day  1 
Hark  !  hear  its  wild  din  rushing  nearer  ! 

It  hither  approaches  in  gloomy  array, 

While  loud  sounding  horns  peal  their  blast  on  its  way, 
The  soul  overwhelming  with  terror ! 

Those  swart  companions  you  view  in  the  race, — 

Those  are  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase ! 

What  swiftly  moves  on  through  yon  dark  forest  glade, 

From  mountain  to  mountain  deploying  ? 
They  place  themselves  nightly  in  ambuscade, 
They  shout  the  hurrah,  and  they  draw  the  keen  blade, 

The  French  usurpers  destroying  ! 
Those  swart  Yagers  bounding  from  place  to  place, — 
Those  are  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase  ! 

Where,  midst  glowing  vines,  as  the  Rhine  murmurs  by, 
The  tyrant  securely  is  sleeping ; — 


LUTZOW'S  TPELD  CHASE.  141 

They  swiftly  approach,  ?neath  the  storm-glaring  sky ; 
With  vigorous  arms  o'er  the  waters  they  ply ; 

Soon  safe  on  his  island-shore  leaping ! 
Those  swarthy  swimmers  whose  wake  you  trace, 
Those  are  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase ! 

Whence  sweeps  from  yon  valley  the  battle's  loud  roar, 
Where  swords  in  thick  carnage  are  clashing  1 

Fierce  horsemen  encounter,  'mid  lightnings  and  gore; 

The  spark  of  true  freedom  is  kindled  ohce  more, 
From  war's  bloody  altars  out-flashing  ! 

Those  horsemen  swart  who  the  combat  face, 

Those  are  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase  ! 

Who  smile  their  adieu  to  the  light  of  the  sun, 

'Mid  fallen  foes  moaning  their  bravery  1 
Death  creeps  o'er  their  visage, — their  labors  are  done  ; — 
Their  valiant  hearts  tremble  not ; — victory's  won  ; 

Their  fatherland  rescued  from  slavery  ! 
Those  swart  warriors  fallen  in  death's  embrace, 
Those  were  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase  ! 

The  wild  German  Yagers, — their  glorious  careers 

Dealt  death  to  the  tyrant  oppressor ! 
Then  weep  not,  dear  friends,  for  the  true  volunteers, 
When  the  morn  of  our  fatherland's  freedom  appears ; 

Since  we  alone  died  to  redress  her. 
Our  mem'ry  transmitted,  no  time  shall  erase ; — 
Those  were  Liitzow's  roving,  wild,  venturous  chase  ! 

George's  /.,  Boston  Harbor,  Nov.  23,  1833. 


142 


ENIGMA. 

t 

"  JE  suis  enfant  de  Tart,  aussi  de  la  nature, 

Le  plus  vrai  que  je  suis,  je  suis  plus  imposture, 
Quoique  de  longues  annees  ne  peuvent  me  fletrir, 
Je  deviens  trop  jeune,  a  force  de  vieillir ; 
Souvenir  du  temps  passe,  je  le  fais  oublier, 
Et  souvent,  quoique  present,  je  suis  trop  61oigne." 

TRANSLATION. 

Nature  my  model  of  beauty  afforded, — 

Art  the  bright  model  in  beauty  recorded. 

I  cherish  the  traits  that  fond  fancy  did  weave  you, 

Though  the  more  I  am  faithful,  the  more  I  deceive  you. 

Time  does  not  wither  nor  render  me  colder ; 

I  only  grow  too  young  as  I  become  older. 

The  past  I  recall  but  to  cause  it  to  vanish, 

And  soon  will  my  presence  all  thoughts  of  me  banish. 

Boston,  Feb.,  1834. 


CONSOLATION. 


143 


CONSOLATION. 

To  a  Friend  bereaved  of  his  Companion. 

WEEP  not  for  her,  who,  like  the  day, 
When  sunset  gilds  the  tranquil  scene, 

With  lingering  radiance  pass'd  away — 
In  cheerful  hope  and  joy  serene  : 

Another  day  the  sun  will  greet, 

And  friends  so  dear  again  shall  meet. 

Weep  not  for  her,  who  meekly  led 

A  life  of  piety  and  love, 
Whose  unassuming  virtue  shed 

A  hallow'd  influence  from  above. 
The  fallen  dew-drop  needs  must  dry, 
Exhaled  into  its  native  sky. 

Weep  not  for  her,  who  now  at  rest 
Where  care  and  pain  no  more  annoy, 

Has  reach'd  the  haven  of  the  blest, 
And  realized  immortal  joy. 

Her  spirit  smiles  from  that  bright  shore, 

And  softly  whispers  "  Weep  no  more  !" 

Fort  Warren,  June  23,  1835. 


144  BAGATELLE. 


BAGATELLE. 

hi  remembrance  of  a  sailing  party,  which  was  interrupted  by  a  sudden 
storm,  and  by  the  breaking  of  a  carriage. 

You  ask  me,  lady,  for  a  lay 

Of  accident  and  trial ; 
And  lady's  wish,  the  poets  say, 

Should  never  meet  denial. 
But  hard  the  task  which  thus  you  ask, 

To  be  the  sad  recorder 
Of  woes  that  mount,  in  long  account, 

To  "seventhly"  in  order. 

^Eneas  ne'er  had  woes  like  these, 

Nor  suffer'd  half  so  badly, 
Although  he  braved  the  stormy  seas, 

And  though  they  used  him  sadly. 
True,  he  escaped  from  Troy's  attack, 

Through  flames  that  might  have  fried  him, 
And  took  his  father  on  his  back, 

His  wife  and  child  beside  him. 
His  sorrows  in  their  fiery  course, 

He  bore  without  complaining ; 
But  ours  were  from  a  higher  source, 

Occasioned  by  its  raining. 
It  is  enough  to  make  one  weep, — 

Prepared  to  take  a  sail  thus, 
To  see  a  squall  come  o'er  the  deep, 

With  wind,  and  rain,  and  hail,  thus ! 


BAGATELLE.  145 

But  'tis  a  great  deal  worse  than  this, 

The  wind  and  rain  abating ; 
When  just  in  view  of  fancied  bliss, 

Still  to  be  kept  in  waiting ! 
^Eneas  didn't  have  to  wait 

One  long  hour  in  a  cabin, 
Or  he'd  have  raged  at  any  rate, 

So  would  a  Jewish  Rabbin  ! 
He  didn't  have  a  coach  break  down, 

When  nobody  was  in  it, 
Which  promised  to  go  back  to  town, 

Returning  in  a  minute. 
Alas !  how  bitter  is  the  pain, 

When  plans  are  thus  concerted, 
To  wait  for  friends  so  long  in  vain, 

And  then  to  be  deserted. 

^Eneas  fled  from  home  at  night, 

While  Troy  was  redly  glaring ; 
And  reach'd  the  shore  by  that  dread  light, 

Depress'd,  but  not  despairing. 
He  launch'd  upon  the  lurid  wave ; — 

Celestial  wrath  pursuing ; 
While  Juno,  with  resentment  grave, 

Was  bent  on  his  undoing. 
Then  ^Eolus  sent  forth  his  blast, 

By  fiercest  fury  quicken'd ; 
And  wild,  and  wide,  and  far,  and  fast, 

The  storm  around  him  thicken'd  : 
Black  night  came  brooding  o'er  the  main, 

Sky,  ship,  and  sea  confounding ; 
The  thunder's  crash,  the  lightning's  chain, 

And  yawning  gulfs  surrounding. 
13 


146  BAGATELLE. 

See,  on  the  foaming  billow  borne, 

Yon  bark,  dismasted,  flying ! 
The  shrouds  all  snapp'd,  the  sails  all  torn, 

And  spars  around  it  lying ! 
Hark !  listen  to  that  piercing  shriek  ! 

Seem  life  and  hope  to  sever ! 
Listen !  it  grows  more  weak, — more  weak, 

And  now — 'tis  hush'd  for  ever ! 
Alas !  of  all  the  goodly  fleet 

That  lately  deck'd  the  ocean, 
But  few  survive,  once  more  to  greet, 

In  friendship's  warm  devotion  ! 
^Eneas  even,  wreck'd  and  toss'd, 

The  sport  of  every  danger, 
Exhausted,  on  an  unknown  coast 

Beholds  himself  a  stranger. 

But  here  the  parallel  mast  fail ; 

For  fate  at  last  befriended, 
And  we  had  quite  a  pleasant  sail, 

After  the  storm  was  ended. 
And,  lady,  as  time's  rapid  wing 

The  voyage  of  life  shall  measure, 
Wilt  thou  one  fond  remembrance  fling 

On  that  brief  voyage  of  pleasure  ? 

Fort  Warren,  Aug.  6,  1835. 


THE  APOLOGY.  147 


THE  APOLOGY. 

To  a  Lady,  on  being  prevented  from  attending  her  Birth-Night  Ball. 
"  Et  moriens,  dulces  reminiscitur  Argos." 

LADY,  since  Fate's  austere  behest 
Forbids  thy  friend  to  be  thy  guest, 
To  mingle  with  the  festal  throng, 
Or  twine  the  dance,  or  list  the  song  ; 
This  note,  vicarious,  presents 
An  absentee's  kind  compliments, 
And  tenders  thee  a  simple  lay, 
In  honor  of  thy  natal  day. 

Thy  halls,  this  eve,  are  glitt'ring  bright ; 
Thy  heart  is  throbbing  with  delight. 
The  young,  the  gay,  the  fond,  and  fair, 
In  buoyant  hope  assembled  there, 
With  many  a  cheerful  word  and  smile, 
Thy  swift-wing'd  vesper  hours  beguile, 
And  gather^  round,  in  rich  array, 
To  greet  thee  on  thy  natal  day. 

I  may  not  speak  the  greeting  word, 
My  voice  among  them  not  be  heard ; 
I  may  not  watch  thy  sparkling  eye, 
Nor  drink  thy  murmuring  melody ; 
But  none  would  greet  thee  more  sincere, 
And  none  will  prize  thy  worth  more  dear, 


148  THE  APOLOGY. 

Of  all  who  anxious  strive  to  pay 
This  tribute  to  thy  natal  day. 

A  sterner  lot  is  mine  to  bear, — 
Not  sad,  nor  yet  devoid  of  care. 
Prompted,  adventurous,  to  roam, 
Leaving  dear  kindred,  and  sweet  home, 
Another  land  these  feet  may  tread, 
A  milder  sky  be  o'er  me  spread, 
And  duty  call  me  far  away, 
Ere  shall  return  thy  natal  day. 

But  each  revolving  year  will  bring 
Long  time  to  thee  a  brighter  spring  ; 
Nor  winter  chill  thy  blooming  pow'rs, 
Nursed  in  affection's  fondest  bow'rs, 
Till  summer  shall  mature  the  mind, 
Thus  early  cultured  and  refined, 
And  intellectual  fruits  display, 
Each  autumn,  with  thy  natal  day. 

I  would  not  ape  the  Laureat's  task, 
I  may  not  wear  the  flatterer's  mask ; 
But,  gentle  lady,  may'st  thou  live 
Long  in  all  bliss  that  earth  can  give, 
Till  soft  as  fades  life's  twilight  even, 
Regenerate,  thou  smile — in  Heaven. 
Thus  ever  will  the  minstrel  pray 
For  blessings  on  thy  natal  clay. 

Fort  Warren,  Sept.  30,  1835. 


THE  MARSEILLES  HYMN.  149 


THE  MARSEILLES  HYMN. 

This  sublime  appeal  to  patriotism  is  said  to  have  been  composed  in  one 
night,  together  with  the  music,  by  M.  Joseph  Rouget  de  L'lsle,  while  an 
officer  in  the  engineer  corps  at  Strasburg,  early  in  the  French  Revolution. 
It  was  at  first  called  L'Offrande  a  la  Liberte,  but  subsequently  received 
its  present  name,  because  it  was  first  publicly  sung  by  the  Marseilles 
confederates  in  1792.  (See  the  article  Marsellaise  Hymn;  Enc.  Am.) 
The  object  of  the  following  translation  was  to  give,  as  nearly  as  possi 
ble,  a  literal  version  of  the  original. 

SONS  of  your  country,  on  to  her  aid ! 

The  day  of  glory  now  appears"; 
Lo  !  Tyranny  'gainst  you  array'd, 

His  blood-dripping  standard  uprears  ! 
See  your  fields  teem  with  war's  dread  alarms ! 

Hear  the  soldiers'  boisterous  roar  ! 
They  venture  even  to  your  arms, 
Your  sons  and  your  wives  to  engore. 
To  arms !  to  arms,  ye  brave  ! 
Your  marshall'd  banners  wave ! 
March  on !  march  on  !  their  blood  impure 
Our  battle-field  shall  lave  ! 

What  would  with  us  the  slavish  horde, 

Of  traitors  leagued,  and  kings  combined  1 
Their  chains  and  their  manacles  stored— 

For  whom  are  these  fetters  design'd  ! 
Frenchmen,  for  us  this  deep  disgrace  ! 

What  transports  in  our  hearts  should  burn ! 
'Tis  we  whom  thus  they  dare  menace 

To  ancient  slavery  to  return  ! 
To  arms !  &c. 

13* 


150  THE  MARSEILLES  HYMN. 

See  cohorts  vile,  from  foreign  lands, 

Seek  to  rule,  unsway'd,  our  realm ; 
And  the  phalanx  of  hireling  bands 

Would  our  warriors  fierce  overwhelm  ! 
Mighty  God  !  this  manacled  crew 

Our  necks  beneath  the  yoke  would  bend  ! 
On  hateful  despots  then  anew 

Our  lives  and  fortunes  would  depend  ! 
To  arms !  &c. 

Tyrants  beware  !  and  ye  false  clans, 

Whom  opprobrious  all  regard ; 
Be  aware  that  your  parricide  plans 

Shall  at  length  undergo  their  reward  ! 
All  are  soldiers  against  you  to  fight ; 

And  if  our  young  heroes  should  be  slain, 
New  forces  France  would  soon  unite, 

In  battle  to  engage  again. 
To  arms !  &c. 

Frenchmen,  magnanimous,  forbear, 

Circumspectly  deal  your  blows ; 
Those  unhappy  victims  spare, 

Who  became  your  unwilling  foes. 
But  yon  bloody  despot  force, — 

On  them  your  heaviest  wrath  descend  ;* 
Those  tigers  who  without  remorse, 

The  bosom  of  their  mother  rend. 
To  arms !  &c. 


*  To  avoid  an  unnecessary  and  perhaps  too  severe  personality,  tins 
line  is  changed  from  the  original ;  but  still  retains  its  spirit. 


THE  MARSEILLES  HYMN.  151 

Love  of  our  country,  sacred  flame, 

Our  avenging  arms  protect ! 
Oh  Liberty  !  long  cherish'd  name, 

Thy  defenders  aid  and  direct ! 
Our  ensigns  for  battle  unroll'd, 

At  thy  call  may  Victory  crown ; 
Till  dying  enemies  behold 

Thy  triumph,  and  thy  sons'  renown  ! 
To  arms  !  to  arms,  ye  brave  ! 
Your  marshall'd  banners  wave  ! 
March  on !  march  on  !  their  blood  impure 
Our  battle-field  shall  lave  !    , 

Boston,  Jan.  23,  1836. 


152  THE  COMMUNION. 


THE  COMMUNION. 

"  Why  was  I  made  to  hear  thy  voice, 

And  enter  while  there's  room, 
While  thousands  make  a  wretched  choice, 
And  rather  starve  than  come." 

WATTS. 

WHILE  the  sons  of  earth,  retiring-, 

From  the  sacred  temple  roam ; 
Lord,  thy  light  and  love  desiring, 

To  thine  altar  fain  we  come. 
Children  of  a  Heavenly  Father, 

Friends  and  brethren  would  we  be  ; 
While  we  round  thy  table  gather, 

May  our  hearts  be  one  in  thee. 

Jesus  spreads  his  banner  o'er  us, 

Cheers  our  famish'd  souls  with  food  ; 
He  the  banquet  spreads  before  us 

Of  his  mystic  flesh  and  blood. 
Precious  banquet !  bread  of  heaven ! 

Wine  of  gladness  flowing  free  ! 
May  we  taste  it,  kindly  given, 

In  remembrance,  Lord,  of  thee. 

In  thy  holy  Incarnation, 

When  the  angels  sung  thy  birth, 
In  thy  fasting  and  temptation, 

In  thy  labors  on  the  earth  ; 
In  thy  trial  and  rejection, 

In  thy  sufferings  on  the  tree, — 


THE  COMMUNION.  153 

In  thy  glorious  resurrection, 

May  we,  Lord,  remember  thee  ! 

, 
All  thy  love  and  mercy  feeling, 

All  our  weakness  would  we  feel ; 
Humbly  at  thine  altar  kneeling, 

For  thy  pardon  would  we  kneel. 
All  our  passions  sacrificing, 

As  thy  sacrifice  we  see, 
May  we,  from  thine  altar  rising, 

Consecrate  our  lives  to  thee. 

By  thy  Holy  Spirit  leading, 

Gently  draw  us  on  the  road  ; 
By  thy  boundless  merit  pleading, — 

Reconcile  us  to  our  God. 
Toss'd  on  life's  eventful  ocean, 

Changing  though  our  life  may  be, — 
When  its  billows  cease  their  motion, 

May  we  find  our  rest  in  thee  ! 

When  the  heavens  shall  be  shaken, 

As  thou  comest  from  on  high ; 
When  the  dead  from  death  awaken, 

To  attend  thee  in  the  sky  ; 
When  the  mighty  seals  are  broken, 

And  the  mountains,  trembling,  flee ; 
When  the  final  doom  is  spoken, 

May  we  refuge  find  in  thee  ! 

Philadelphia,  Oct.  16,  1836. 


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